


Man of the House

by lori (zakhad), zakhad



Series: Captain and Counselor, the revised versions [30]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:29:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 62,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21729079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/zakhad
Summary: Rewritten completely, because literally no way to work in all the stuff that would be included now, in re: Dominion War recovery, the expatriated Romulans, the inclusion of Lwaxana's little boy, and the House stuff.So the general goal for the rewritten version will be to work these threads in, along with Jean-Luc getting to know his wife's culture, and the expectations that it has of him, as the new member of the Fifth House. And Deanna's mother has a habit of complicating everything.Memory Beta claims more than 20 houses on Betazed. In my series there are six.
Relationships: Jean-Luc Picard/Deanna Troi
Series: Captain and Counselor, the revised versions [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1222406
Comments: 27
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

Jean-Luc Picard stepped off the public transporter pad in Medara. One of the two moons hung in the sky, pale against the hazy blue. The transporter was surrounded by a tall fence, probably to keep people from randomly walking across it. Deanna was already heading toward the gate, so he readjusted the straps of the two bags on his shoulder and followed her. They strolled past the line of Betazoids waiting for entry without attracting much attention. Wearing casual clothing in line with current styles on Betazed had paid off.

He kept looking around and almost bumped into her when she stopped on the corner. Deanna had put up her hair and worn a different style of dress, something short, bright green, and with shimmering tights that reminded him of fish scales. It wasn't her best look, but it seemed to be in keeping with what other Betazoids were wearing. There were pedestrians on both sides of the street, in dresses or pant suits of similar material. She'd replicated some teal pants and a lighter shirt for him.

"Mother said Mr. Homn would pick us up, but I don't see him anywhere."

"What's that?" He pointed down the street. There was a large building towering over the single-story dwellings at the end of the short street. A shining golden dome at the top had caught his eye.

"It's the seat of our government," Deanna said wearily. "The statehouse. We could schedule a tour, if you're interested. There are a lot of records and artworks that depict some of our history."

"If there's time." They only had three weeks, and he suspected that it would take all of that time to do everything they had planned. The Festival of Alipha would consume three days all by itself.

Deanna turned to look the other way, up the street. "There he is."

A gleaming silver vehicle came to a stop, and settled to the ground with a hiss. The domed top cracked open and the side nearest them slid backward, exposing the interior. Homn was seated at the front of the vehicle, and two empty bench seats waited behind him. Deanna stepped forward, ignoring the attention that they were now getting; it was the largest of the vehicles on the street, easily, and as Jean-Luc passed her their bags to put in the back, someone came too close. He turned to glare, and found himself looking into the startled blue eyes of a human.

"Sydney Sellers," the young man announced. "Pleased to meet you, sir."

"Hmph." Jean-Luc lunged into the vehicle, following Deanna.

"Miss Troi, do you have anything you'd like to share? Would you care to introduce your _friend_?"

Deanna smiled up at the man. "No. Mr. Homn, let's go."

The shining dome was, Jean-Luc noticed, merely tinted -- it closed behind them, and the man fell back as the vehicle started to move.

"Every time I come back to Medara," Deanna said with a sigh. "Let's take the scenic route home."

Homn nodded and touched the console. The vehicle sped up slightly, as it went into a long swooping turn and left the town behind.

"Did you know that man?" Jean-Luc asked.

"He's a reporter, with the Federation Times. He's been on Betazed covering the government, the Houses, and anything else that the Times thinks might be newsworthy. They follow Mother around sometimes." She took his hand and watched the landscape go by outside.

He knew Betazed mostly from what he'd read about it; the last time he'd been here, he'd only seen Lake El'Nar, half a continent to the south of Medara. The rural countryside of Medara was nothing like the town of El'Nar. The road ascended a long hill slowly, and then the vehicle swung round a large paved area, coming to a stop in front of a multi-story ornate building that reminded him of some of the larger castles in Europe. The stonework seemed to be ancient; there were some edges that appeared to be crumbling.

Deanna didn't move; she stared up at it for a moment. She seemed to be lost in thought. Homn waited silently, not even looking back at them.

"Cygne?"

She turned to look at him. "Sorry. This is the Fifth House."

When she didn't go on, Jean-Luc squeezed her hand. "We don't have to see this today. Your mother and Barin are waiting for us."

She nodded, looking down. At her own belly -- though the pregnancy was only two and a half months along, and barely showing. She'd warned him that being on Betazed would be difficult for her.

"Let's go home," she said.

Homn nodded, and the vehicle started to move again silently. Deanna was quiet, watching the scenery go by, then moved closer and put her head on his shoulder. He obliged by putting an arm around her.

It was a slightly-unsettling start, to their visit, but he knew it would shift gears into anxiety-provoking, if past experience with Lwaxana were any indicator.


	2. Chapter 2

The house of Lwaxana Troi looked the same, surprisingly, a white building at the top of the hill, groomed lawns and flowerbeds all around. Long wings of room after room, many of them guest rooms, sprawled left and right from the main house. Her mother had a tendency to remodel on a whim. Perhaps all the traveling she had been doing had slowed that down. As the vehicle swept through the tall gates Jean-Luc leaned to look up at the sculpture on top of the column on either side of the drive.

It took at least ten minutes to get to the house. Once in the wide pavement in front of the garage, Homn stopped and the side of the vehicle swung open to let them out. Deanna stepped out onto the white pavement. Mother insisted on the lightest aggregate possible, despite all the headaches of keeping it clean, so she could find her earrings when she inevitably dropped them while leaping out of her car. And it had to be easy to walk on in heeled shoes.

Homn plucked their bags out of the back and gestured toward the front door, then followed them along the front of the house. Jean-Luc looked over his shoulder; Deanna knew he was seeing the car moving into the opening garage, as it was programmed to do. Everything in its place. Mother may be chaos and parties all the time, but she did require her employees to keep everything in order.

"Is this where you lived as a child?" Jean-Luc asked, as he followed her in the front door.

"Mother moved here from Lake El'Nar after I went to the Academy. The house there was much bigger." Deanna glanced up at the portrait of her grandparents in the foyer. The geometric patterns on the tiles tended to disorient her, so she kept her eyes trained on the walls and the gigantic tinkling chandelier suspended from the high ceiling. "My maternal grandparents. The portraits down the wing to the east are all my ancestors, in order, all the way down to my mother's bedroom door. There are a few of Daddy's family in the hall on the way to the solarium."

"Maybe you can introduce me to them later," Jean-Luc said lightly. 

Homn had already vanished into the house, likely following orders issued in Mother's usual headlong manner. Deanna could sense her mother well enough to navigate without him. She crossed the tiled floor to the door opposite the entrance, the third of five such doors, and led Jean-Luc down a short hall to broad-paned doors that swung silently open before them. The air was alive with humming of insects, the gentle chiming of muktoks, and the soft sounds of flowing water. And it was warmer than it was outside. 

"An arboretum," Jean-Luc exclaimed. "Something I've missed, since we lost the last _Enterprise_."

"Mother loves flowers. So she decided she wanted a place to come pick them every morning for her table." Deanna strolled along the paved walk between trees covered in blossoming vines. "She also hosts some of her parties out here." 

They found Lwaxana in a grove of shorter bushes, snipping a long-stemmed flower reminiscent of a chrysanthemum. "Oh, _there you are_ ," she cried out joyfully, dropping the shears and the blossom on a bench as she stepped out of the bushes. She fluttered over, smiling joyously, holding out her arms and sweeping in for a hug. Her long-sleeved blue and white dress this morning wasn't covered in glittering stones or sequins; she wore more comfortable versions around the house. Deanna returned the embrace warmly. Mother was in an ebullient mood, after a week of anticipating their visit. She turned from Deanna and held out a hand, surprising Jean-Luc -- he hesitantly took it. Lwaxana gripped his fingers briefly and let his hand drop. Deanna exchanged a look with him -- he wasn't sure what it was about. Deanna knew, because she'd been very clear in a conversation over subspace with her mother, that Lwaxana understood now that she needed to treat him as a member of the family with a specific need for space. As much fun as it was to tease and instigate someone so serious, her mother had agreed to stop. It remained to be seen how long that would last. Mother prided herself on her ability to help very serious people "have some fun."

"We have something to tell you, Mother," Deanna said. The one thing she hadn't said in their chat last week. "I'm pregnant."

Lwaxana froze for a few seconds, then started to cry unexpectedly. She lunged and threw her arms around both of them; Jean-Luc stiffened in shock, as Deanna did, and both were relieved when she let go again and caught Deanna's face in her hands. She hugged her daughter again, with less choking and squeezing than before. 

"Mother," Deanna said gently. It was enough -- she backed away and looked at her with tears of joy streaking her makeup. 

"My dear, dear Little One, I'm so _happy_ ," she exclaimed with a sigh. "Well -- now we have _so much_ to do!"

"We already have enough to do -- the Festival starts tomorrow, and I know you have the tailor here somewhere to make sure my costumes fit me," Deanna said. "And Homn took our things to our room, which we haven't seen yet."

"You should take dear Jean-Luc on a tour, of course! Take a few minutes to get oriented to everything! Oh -- I've also had Mr. Homn collect some Terran foods so you'll feel at home," Lwaxana said with her usual enthusiasm. She collected the pile of white blossoms from the bench and moved along the walk ahead of them. "We'll just be having a few people for dinner -- I know you'll want to introduce your lovely husband to _everyone_ but I thought we would start with just family."

"So an intimate gathering of twenty-four," Deanna said, rolling her eyes.

Lwaxana glanced back at her. "Oh, not at all -- we'll have twenty-seven. You've brought home Jean-Luc, and Sora is married now, dear. And Meela had another child. You see what you miss being away for so long?"

Jean-Luc was mildly amused by this. The feeling abated, as they followed Lwaxana back into the house and all the way down another hallway -- Deanna thought they must be as far from the master suite as possible. Mother threw open the door, went to the table in the middle of the room, and put the handful of flowers in a bowl on the round table there. She'd given them a suite in the guest wing, instead of the room she'd had as a college student. That could be an attempt to give them privacy or it could mean Deanna's things went into storage and her old room repurposed as a closet extension for her mother's wardrobe. It would likely be best not to ask. 

Jean-Luc went to the broad windows to look outside -- from this part of the house it would be the gardens, full of fruit trees and muktoks. Then he spied the door to the bathroom and went in, closing the door behind him.

Mother came to Deanna and took her hand. "Is everything all right, dear? He's being so very _quiet_ ," she whispered loudly.

"He's a guest in your home. He doesn't know quite what's expected of him here. We're not Starfleet officers, at the moment." Also he had come to the conclusion that anything he said in Mother's presence would be interrupted anyway, and decided just to follow Deanna around and ask questions once in a while. 

"We Troi women do appreciate a strong, silent man, it's true," Mother said, waving her hands in a general outline of broad shoulders. "Now -- your dress for tomorrow is in the closet, along with some other little things I've picked out for the two of you, Yuris is in the fitting room waiting for you. I'm going out to the kitchen to arrange a wonderful lunch for us, and then I'll come see how the fittings are coming along. I'm so happy we were able to do some of the planning in advance -- it makes it all so much easier when everyone knows what to expect!" She kissed Deanna lightly on the cheek and hurried off, closing the bedroom door behind her.

Deanna sighed heavily, turning in place -- the bed was wider and longer than the one in their quarters on the _Enterprise_ , and covered with a pink blanket edged with dangling tassels all the way around. The draperies over the windows might have been cut from the same cloth. The table in the middle of the room was no doubt made of some hardwood from a distant grove of something rare. The closet had four sliding doors and likely could accommodate not one but two rows of clothes. Mother liked her closet space. 

She had opened the closet and brought out the gown Mother had selected for her by the time Jean-Luc came out. He had the wide-eyed look of the normal human being subjected to the largess of Lwaxana Troi for the very first time. "We could ask for something more in keeping with our high standards," she said, smirking at him.

"There are _fish_ ," he said, pointing back at the bathroom door. 

"If you asked she would probably tell you their names."

"How many of the guest rooms have fish?" he challenged.

"All of them, so far as I know. Mr. Toma feeds them all daily and cleans the tanks weekly."

Jean-Luc watched her carry the dress over to the bed and lay it out. "Is that for the Festival?"

"For the opening ceremonies. You know what the dance costume looks like." She'd been practicing with bells for weeks. 

"How many employees does she have?"

Deanna carefully undid the fasteners down the back of the dress and took the undergarments out of the bag inside. Mother always provided everything necessary for the outfit down to the strapless brassiere. "It varies. There are at least eight who take care of her properties like this one. They travel from one to the next. I believe the landscaper is due here today, tomorrow it will be the housekeeper. There should be a suit for you to try on, and then we'll go down the hall to see Yuris, the tailor."

He watched her take off the street dress, peel off the hose, and strip off the undergarments she currently wore. "Has it always been this way?"

Deanna backed up to him so he could fasten the bra for her. "What way?"

"You grew up this way -- in homes like this, with many employees and gilded fixtures, greenhouses, large rooms, and anything you wish. Elaborate clothing. It all seems...."

"Excessive. Yes. Especially for a Betazoid," Deanna said, thinking about going to the homes of friends, as a child. "The vast majority of us don't live this way. However, when the Dominion invaded Betazed Mother had most of Medara living here under her roof. And then she hired contractors from one of the colonies near Betazed to come here, to repair the homes in Medara that were damaged in the attack. You wouldn't know that two families lived in this room for a few months, looking at it. While the power was out for four weeks everyone lived on the fruit and vegetables Mother grows in her gardens."

That shocked him. "I was aware that she had taken in people, but that many?"

"The rest she sent to the Fifth House. It's far enough from town that it was undamaged. Some of the others were not overlooked that way." She stepped into the slip, then picked up the dress -- it was heavier than it looked. "Hold this, please? It's easier if I climb into it. Undignified as hell but I don't have servants."

He chuckled as he held it up by the top hem and watched her find the last layer of skirts so she could crawl up inside it. "What do you call the employee who fastens these dresses?"

"Mother has Mr. Homn do it when she's traveling. I think her current wardrobe assistant here on Betazed is an intern named Samantha. She's actually employed by Mother's favorite clothier, and has two other House ladies who are clients." Deanna turned around slowly, feeling bottom-heavy and awkward. The back of the dress was wide open so she had to hold the front up. "There's a hook in the bag somewhere to pull the buttons through the loops?"

He found it in the bag that had contained the slip and the bra, and worked at the back of the dress. "So your wardrobe assistant is all the way from France," he commented.

"And he's definitely better looking than my mother's," Deanna said, giggling. 

"Though not paid as well. But there are other benefits to the position." He fastened the last one as she exhaled a bit more to give him more slack. "Your mother certainly didn't waste any time putting you to work, being a Daughter of the Fifth House."

"The tailor needs the rest of today to make the alterations. You should put on yours as well."

He was staring at her as she turned about in the dress -- the skirts needed to be shorter, obviously, the whole mess was dragging loudly on the carpet. "No one said anything about a dress for _me_."

"It isn't a dress, silly fish." She pointed at the garment bag hanging in the corner of the closet, visible through the open door. He retrieved the bag, opened it, and took out the shirt -- it was more modest than she'd anticipated. Mother was clearly trying hard to give him something he might not shout about but still remained within the bounds of traditional. She had to help him put it on, after he removed the ordinary shirt with sleeves; the ceremonial outfit had no sleeves, or much to it at all, and amounted to a sort of halter made of the same silk as her dress. 

"There are no pants," he said, turning the garment bag inside out. He turned and noticed her expression. "There are _no pants_!!"

"After the Betazoid wedding ceremony there are skirts. The clothing is similar to the woman's, but not as ornate. But the ceremonial clothing for -- I don't know if you have a word in Standard for a servant whose primary purpose is sexual service? There were very few men in the Houses who weren't servants."

His expression, as he stood there in the purple silk halter top, was priceless -- the disdain and outrage in his eyes might light the curtains on fire. Deanna had to admit to herself that he was fun to tease. If only she'd been teasing him. She was about to apologize when he broke down and started to laugh. Stripping the thing off, he tossed it at the bed and picked up the shirt. 

"Jean-Luc?" 

"I am not anyone's concubine," he said stiffly. With a final tug settling the shirt back in place, he crossed his arms.

"No, you are not. Nor I am Shweva Troi, who had fifteen concubines. But the festival is a re-enactment, not unlike the Civil War, World War, or Greco-Roman re-enactments that take place on Earth. Mother's sense of civic duty was something she always tried to give me." Deanna picked up the purple mesh sleeves, slipped one on each arm, and turned for the door. "You could come as a different kind of servant."

"Or since this is a re-enactment I could come as Mr. Shweva Troi? And how is this a civic duty?"

She hadn't taken the time to explain everything about the Festival. But she knew she needed to get the dress to the tailor, before going to lunch. They would have an opportunity to discuss further then and whatever costume he would adopt wouldn't take as much alteration.

"Come with me to see Yuris."

The fitting room was at the other end of the hall, one door in from the foyer. Yuris was a smiling Bolian. "Deanna! Welcome home!"

"We have to quit meeting this way," Deanna replied, although she hadn't seen him in several years.

"It's always a pleasure. Come step up, let's get your bustle hustled through so you can relax," he exclaimed, waving her to the pedestal in the middle of the well-lit room with mirrors on two walls. "The shoes first." Yuris trotted over to the closet where the racks of shoes would be. He brought back a pair of the appropriate kind, with short wedge heels and open toes, and pushed them in under all the layers of skirt to hold them in place while she stepped into them. With the extra bit of height he would be able to correctly tack up the skirt for hemming. 

"This is my husband, Jean-Luc Picard," she said. "We were debating what he should wear."

It led to Yuris scrutinizing Jean-Luc as he stood back out of the way, conveniently close to the door to facilitate rapid evacuation in the event that anyone else suggested that he dress like a concubine, no doubt. "For authenticity it would have to be the garment that was with the dress. But I can certainly understand why he would wish to wear something else. Have you spoken to your mother?"

"Not yet. I thought you might have some ideas?"

"What would I wear as her husband?" Jean-Luc asked.

Yuris eyed him for a moment, then went to the closet and opened the other half, then walked inside. It extended farther than other closets; outfits kept on hand for guests were kept there. The tailor came out with a garment bag, which he hung on a hook over the closet door and opened to reveal a light purple dress, more pinkish than lavender. It had long ruffled sleeves, and matching ruffles below the knee on the narrow skirt. The bottom layer flared slightly. 

"There's a dressing room over there if you want to try it," Deanna said, pointing at the curtain next to the bank of mirrors.

She watched him take the costume from Yuris and disappear behind the curtain. Yuris went back to dutifully pinning up the five layers of skirt to the correct length, while scuffling noises from the dressing room made her smile. By the time Yuris was halfway done, Jean-Luc emerged.

Deanna had to hold her breath for a minute. Yuris straightened, waddled over -- he was a tad portly, as compared to the last time she'd seen him -- and studied the fit. "It wouldn't need alteration," he pronounced cheerily as he returned to Deanna.

"I look like a wine-soaked flamenco dancer," Jean-Luc snapped. The ruffles really did nothing for him. And the front of the shirt was a mere suggestion -- the wide V ended just above the navel, showing off his chest and abdomen. Pink was not at all his color, either.

"It's actually not bad," Deanna said diffidently. "Relatively speaking. It covers your legs and... other things. We have no control over the color, unfortunately. And you don't have to wear the wig. That's purely a female affectation."

"You have to wear a wig?"

Yuris chuckled, dropped to the kneeling platform again, and resumed pinning. "You haven't shown him the wig room. You'll need the extra tall, to manage, I think."

"I was afraid you would say that." Deanna didn't like the heavier wigs as she had to move so carefully, or risk a strained neck or shoulder muscle.

"But you already have beautiful hair," Jean-Luc said. He seemed to forget at least for the moment that he wore a ridiculous costume.

"Standards were very different on Betazed hundreds of years ago," Yuris said, rapidly folding and pinning along the fourth layer. "Wigs were quite the rage, and even if a lady had a lot of long hair that only meant she could have twice as much as the poor ladies who had less."

Jean-Luc watched the final adjustment of the skirt, walking around her as Yuris stood up and tugged at the bodice here and there. Deanna stepped off the pedestal carefully and turned; the tailor unfastened the train one button at a time, then shook it out, backing away and examining how it lay out behind her.

"This is worse than a wedding gown," Jean-Luc exclaimed.

"Terran gowns are elaborate as well," Yuris agreed. "But this is heavier material. Betazed isn't as temperate as Earth -- at least, it wasn't before weather control became possible. The traditional gowns are quite bulky. I'll need to take out the bodice slightly."

"I'm pregnant, so that makes sense," Deanna said.

Yuris smiled pleasantly at the news. "Congratulations! Another generation to clothe -- I do hope," he said. "You can take it off now, and leave it on the bed in your room. I'll come pick it up while you are at lunch. So what do you think, Captain?" The tailor had clearly been briefed well, as Deanna knew he would be. Mother was quite thorough in keeping her staff informed of her guests' needs even if she took liberties herself.

"I'll consider it," he said with less ire. The Bolian's politeness had gone a long way. "This is the only option?"

"The other would be less appropriate -- you aren't a child of the House. And there is no need for a manservant in Alipha," Yuris said. "No, the two you have are the choices if you wish to participate. There is always the option to simply be in the audience, to abstain from participation, but that will mean not sitting with her for the meal or being allowed to attend the post-dinner ceremonies."

"Thank you, Yuris. I'll go take this off now." Deanna spun and gathered up the train in an arm, while Jean-Luc fetched his clothing from the changing room, and they walked back to their suite.

"What is a flamenco dancer?" she asked, as they helped each other return to street clothes.

"They wear a very flamboyant costume with ruffles like this, while dancing," he said, tossing the dress to the end of the bed. "Does it have to be open that way? It wasn't warm, today." Most of the ceremony would be outside.

"Traditional Betazoid ladies were not so kind to men, I'm afraid," she said, holding up the dress as he helped her unbutton. "Think of how cold the other would be. Mother would let you wear this, but it will cost her."

"What do you mean?"

"There are certain ladies who will frown on anything but the most accurate representation of tradition. The fact that we have yet to be married in the traditions of the Fifth House is known -- they will all be there, if we hold that ceremony. So they'll know she compromised, and criticize her. That results in bad press. She can withstand such things -- she was a rebel when she was younger, and my father wasn't her mother's idea of a good mate. Most of the House ladies are more liberal than that, and don't care. It is what it is, Mother says, and does what she pleases. Barin is another sore point for some of them. I at least appear Betazoid, even if I'm only an empath."

He developed a curl in his upper lip at the last assertion -- he didn't like it when Mother said such things to her, and he didn't approve of her even echoing it, though she did so with a sarcastic tone. "So the choice is between this, and being in the crowd, not participating. Because if it's so cold the last thing I want to do is be nude."

"It would be a toss-up, whether the nudity or the shrinkage bothered you more, I suppose," she said with a grin. "It doesn't matter that I know the truth?"

He yanked on his shirt again and scowled at her. "The first person we spoke to was a reporter from the Federation Times."

"I know. I'm kidding -- I agree with you," she said. A Federation-wide publication having pictures of Captain Picard walking around in a crowd of tourists while naked would likely not be criticized given their locale, but it would become a sensation. And he didn't like that. Places like Risa had a "no holography, no harassment" policy in place to protect their more famous clientele, and strictly enforced it. Being in costume might be sensational but definitely less so. Betazed wasn't really a pleasure planet, and had nothing in place that would prevent the journalist from widely publicizing anything he managed to take.

He pulled up his pants and sat down to put his shoes back on. "You said this was a re-enactment? Was there some specific historical event that we're playing out?"

"This is more like a Renaissance Fair. We choose ancestors to honor, by playing out their roles. Since Betazoids have active memories of their ancestors dating back for centuries it's fairly easy to do."

"What? Really," he exclaimed, standing up again.

"If you want to be authentic you'll have to accept the memory of one of the Troi husbands from centuries ago, from Mother."

He was frowning again. But she could tell it intrigued him. "I'm starting to feel that there are too many gaps in my understanding of Betazoids."

"Don't worry. You're about to be immersed in more Betazoid history than anyone really wants to know," she said, taking his hand as they headed for the dining room and lunch.


	3. Chapter 3

It was looking more and more as though the idea of indulging Fifth House customs was just a pipe dream. Jean-Luc gazed at the painting on the wall of the dining room -- one of three dining rooms in the house, the smallest, a less ornate and more informal room where the family ate together. Lwaxana had been in and out numerous times and it was clear she was on her communications system often.

"She's becoming more involved, now that she's no longer part of the Diplomatic Corps," Deanna said. "The Second House is organizing the Festival of Alipha this year, but Mother did it last year, so they're asking her a lot of questions."

"Do you have to do this?" Jean-Luc asked, keeping his voice low.

Deanna's moment of perplexed frustration wasn't reassuring. She frowned at her half-eaten lunch, shaking her head. "I've committed to it and there have been press releases. If I back out now, it would have to be for a good reason. Illness, or a red alert." She gazed at him seriously. Her amusement at his dismay over the costumes her tradition expected him to wear hadn't been as difficult to bear as the situation at hand, the debate between compliance with an infuriating custom or defying it and causing controversy. "If you want to leave, I'll bow out. I don't like making you feel obligated this way."

He exhaled, propping his elbows on the edge of the table, looking down into the lukewarm Earl Grey that a small woman had brought in from the kitchen. "I respect your tradition. I still want to find a way to give our children access to it, if they choose. But your tradition expects me to be something I am not."

"This was a bad idea." Deanna sounded defeated. "I'll tell Mother we can't do it."

"Wait," he blurted, catching her arm before she could rise from her chair. He slid his fingers down to catch hers. "The Second House is organizing it -- what if I appealed to them for an exception to the expectation -- what?"

She rolled her eyes, put her face in her hands, and as she started to cry he leaned closer and put an arm around her. While he was trying to understand what was going on Lwaxana returned.

"Deanna, _what is it_? Oh, no," she exclaimed, hurrying around the table to sit on the other side of her daughter. She looked at Jean-Luc, at a loss.

"I just felt so overwhelmed, all of a sudden," Deanna gasped. She shook her head as if trying to shed the feeling. "It's probably just hormones."

"Oh, I know, Little One," Lwaxana cajoled. "I know _just_ how you feel. When I was pregnant with you I must have cried for _months_. It felt like forever! Why don't you go rest? I'll just sit here with Jean-Luc while you take a nap."

"Maybe that's a good idea," Deanna said faintly. She got up, touched Jean-Luc's shoulder, and moved past him and out of the dining room.

"Are _you_ all right?"

Jean-Luc turned from watching his wife leave and stared at his mother-in-law. Lwaxana wore a curly black wig; whether in a deliberate mimicry of Deanna's hair or on a whim, he wouldn't bother asking. It made it obvious that Deanna bore little resemblance to her mother. "Lwaxana, believe me when I say that I genuinely want to make an effort to accommodate House custom, but I can't reconcile this expectation that your tradition has of me. I _am_ her husband, and acting as if I am not rubs me the wrong way. I can't bring myself to do it."

Lwaxana's fond expression also chafed; she laughed, and lounged in the chair, draping an elbow over the back of it and resting her head on her arm. "You know, I'm tired of the Fifth House, too. Why don't we all just stay home?"

It caught him off guard. He blinked at her.

"My Ian was so much like you. He could be so serious about these things."

"If it isn't serious why would it be such a problem, to wear one costume instead of another?"

"Jean-Luc, my dear... I can help you understand but it will take a moment of telepathy. This pitiful language, it does nothing to help," she exclaimed, waving a hand dismissively.

He bristled at the arrogance, but it gave him pause. It reminded him of trying to endlessly explain the experience of being Borg to admirals, and wrestling with the restrictions of language to describe what he'd been through. And he had to do something. Perhaps it would help him understand whether approaching the other House ladies was worth the effort.

"Yes. All right," he said, brusque and already regretting it.

"Are you sure?"

It was like hearing her voice in stereo, both inside and outside his head. And then after he did nothing to protest, only inside his head. It was similar and yet not at all like Deanna, clearer and stronger and just a little familiar. The 'voice' told him stories about Betazed, and also about the recovery from the Dominion War. The festivals weren't really tourist events. They were opportunities to collectively share memories of the past, passed along from generation to generation. His head started to ache with it all.

_So you see why this is important._

Jean-Luc blinked, again, and looked into Lwaxana's eyes. Deanna had said it was a civil service for them to participate in the festivals. And so it appeared to be. Passing along history as it had been experienced sounded like something that might have changed the course of history. He almost wished there were something like it on Earth.

"I agree," he said. "Am I mistaken, then, because when we were helping the Cairn, you described Betazoid telepathy as an exchange of words. I've experienced telepathic exchanges with other species. When you gave me that information just now it wasn't just words, it was more direct. As if you passed memories to me."

"Well. My dear captain," she said with great satisfaction, "when we were working with the Cairn, you were obviously nervous about speaking with me. It's not an uncommon reaction to a powerful telepath such as myself. Telepathy can be frightening. It doesn't help when people know our full capabilities, they tend to think we're going to read their minds or somehow manipulate them."

He thought about that, and about the recent encounters with telepaths that weren't at all like Betazoids. "If all telepaths were like Betazoids there might be less apprehension." 

Lwaxana dramatically sighed, sitting upright with her hands in her lap. "What are you not saying, dear? You _constantly_ hold back, it feels like you just don't trust me. We're family now, you know."

"I was remembering our adventures together. Like the Cairn," he said, also thinking about the way she tended to interrupt and take over the conversation with her stream-of-consciousness ramblings and her ongoing focus on herself and her observations.

She kept smiling at him, her eyes alight and her hands still folded in her lap. "We certainly have had some interesting missions. I do wish the last one hadn't ended so poorly."

Jean-Luc didn't know quite what to make of her odd state of calm. "Is it because I married Deanna, that you're not...." Overwhelming him with words? Trying to insinuate he was thinking about her in the wrong way? He knew she had agreed on a moratorium on teasing him, but he kept waiting for her to suddenly revert and turn this into a long tease.

"My dear, don't take this the wrong way -- you worry _far too much_! I know that you are my daughter's _hajira_ and that will not change. You will either be willing to help her carry over our traditions to the next generation, or you will let them die. And frankly, I expected them to die with Deanna. She does hate feeling forced into participating."

"I think that many Federation worlds have pulled back, focused on rebuilding instead of exploring. She seems to feel that being here will help Betazed find its way back."

Lwaxana wasn't smiling any longer. He wondered if the relentless exuberance he'd seen her exhibit in years past had been nervous energy after all. "I don't know what will help Betazed," she said after a long moment. "I know that so many of us are very, very tired. The attack was deeply traumatizing to everyone. There are still people living in my house in El'Nar, while their homes are rebuilt. I didn't enjoy diplomacy as much as I did before the war because all I could think about was home -- two of my very good friends died in the initial attack. And once Barin was born, I simply didn't feel right taking him offworld. I felt safe on the _Enterprise,_ of cours _e._ But traveling -- oh, all I could do was sit looking out at the stars, looking for Jem'hadar ships, and I knew it was silly but at the same time I know there's more to come. So I am staying home, and I _wish_ you would consider bringing Deanna and choosing a house, any house. But you will tell me that will only be temporary safety, because of course it will not be so simple."

"There is always hope," Jean-Luc said. "I will not give up hope."

"I know, dear. It's one of the things I like about you." Lwaxana surveyed the remnants of lunch on the table, and sighed, then summoned her cook. "Nida! Let's clear the table! Well -- you should go decide what you wish to wear to the festival. I had intended to be Sorava Troi, who presided over Betazed for eighty-two years of peace and harmony and had many daughters and sons. One of her daughters followed in her footsteps, and led the Fifth House into a conflict with the Second House -- I wonder if Deanna would feel comfortable being Shweva, who had a series of husbands. She was a scandalous woman. Her third husband insisted on marrying her, but never had a ceremony -- yet went on to act as if he was her husband."

Jean-Luc shook his head. It was a little too coincidental that she was bringing up the same person that Deanna had mentioned earlier. "I'll talk to her. I'm going to contact the ship as well -- if you're ready to have Alexander come?"

"I would _love_ to see my little warrior," she cried.

"Not so little as he was," Jean-Luc said. He headed out of the dining room and down the hall to the foyer, and fished in a pocket for his communicator while he went out the front door.

Lwaxana came outside to stand with him on the pavement, waiting, and after giving deLio the confirmation of his location, the transporter deposited the Klingon warrior in front of them. Lwaxana didn't hesitate. "Alexander!"

The young man laughed more freely than he'd done in Jean-Luc's memory, at the sight of his friend holding up her arms for a hug. He embraced the elder Troi, briefly lifting her off her feet, and stood back to grin at her. "This is your house?"

"It is indeed! I have a room all ready for you," she exclaimed, her voice once more full of the exuberance she was famous for. "Right this way!" She linked arms with her guest and escorted him inside.

Jean-Luc followed them in, turning left down the hallway he knew would take him to the suite he shared with Deanna. Clearly Lwaxana had placed them there without neighbors; she'd gone down a different hall.

Deanna lay curled on her side on the pink blanket, her hair loose around her head. He sat down gently on the corner of the bed and watched her sleep. In repose, her face settled into a neutral expression, her long downswept lashes laying against her cheeks.

He didn't often take the time to remember that first year aboard the _Enterprise_. He'd been rigid and demanding with the crew. Except with her; she had from the first approached him with a calm demeanor. He responded to it with the same, and she could still turn his mood with a smile. He remembered her sadness when her mother brought the Millers aboard, and her acceptance of the situation. She had not ever talked down to her mother, no matter how frustrated she became. Jean-Luc thought about Lwaxana's attitude through the years and sighed quietly.

Deanna's head moved, and then she was pushing herself up and looking at him blearily through swollen eyelids. "Jean?"

"Your mother suggested Shweva and her third husband," he said.

Deanna's chuckle didn't sound particularly amused. "Of course. Do we also want to bring along the fifteen concubines? We have enough cadets."

He growled at it. Rising to her knees, she walked down the bed and reached for his shoulders, pushing him back and falling down with him to drape herself against his shoulder.

"We can still leave," she murmured, her lips brushing his neck.

"His name was Jal Sormo. He killed Shweva's second husband to become her third. The Houses refused to attend a traditional wedding which left him in that state of informal unwedded cohabitation, and Shweva went on to better things after he died. I don't quite understand how a powerful woman would marry such a man."

Deanna hummed for a minute. "Mother only gave you his memories?"

"Apparently. I remember him being a cruel, ambitious man. Not what I would have thought a Betazoid could be like."

"Do you feel you are able to successfully embody him for a short time? And if so, do you want to?"

Jean-Luc played his fingers through her hair. "How many human husbands have done this, in this festival?"

"None."

"Do you feel that my participation would make them angrier than if I did not?"

Deanna rose, leaning on one arm and looking down at him. "What did Mother tell you?"

"You told me, and she told me, that House traditions are stifling. I am interested enough in the experience, but there must be other options for this ceremony -- other individuals more compatible with us?"

"Hundreds. But we'll have to talk to Mother and Mwala about it at dinner. I suspect that it will not change, however."

He was briefly confused by this. "At the intimate dinner for twenty-seven?"

"Mother was teasing, there will only be Mwala and her husband, and us. Alexander too if he doesn't mind dining with people speaking Betazoid."


	4. Chapter 4

"You're sure you're up to this?" Jean-Luc asked. They were strolling down the hall toward dinner, after she'd spent the afternoon resting.

"I'll be fine if you're with me." Deanna found that if she focused more on him than the general emotional atmosphere of Betazed she fared better. Their previous visit had been focused entirely upon helping Narviat and his family settle in with the Fourth House. This time, with no real focus other than a dress fitting, it felt oppressive. Before the war there had been an umbrella of peace and harmony on Betazed. These days, it was difficult for her to be empathic, and with the pregnancy creating more sensitivity to emotions than before, she could feel the discordant emotions all around her. There were so many disagreements about what to do now, Federation secessionists one of the more prominent movements and those opposing such drastic measures -- and then there were those who didn't care whether the Federation continued or not and simply wanted to start building a defensive fleet separate from Starfleet.

She wanted what she'd had before, her peaceful home. Even Earth had been less discordant; before the war, the opposite had been true. She took Jean-Luc's hand, and he stopped walking. As he had been for weeks he hesitated, feeling he wanted to say something, but not wanting to pester her with repeated reassurances or questions. Smiling her reassurance, she kissed his cheek and walked closer, his arm sliding around her waist.

As they entered the foyer the front door opened, and Mother came in -- she was radiating happiness. "Here they are!"

Mwala was her mother's cousin, shorter and dark-haired -- Deanna had been told before that she resembled Mwala more than her own mother and it was true, especially when Mwala wore the dress she had on today, a figure-hugging lavender gown with a sprinkling of precious gems around the neckline. Deanna could tell that she'd worked out more than before, as she was thinner than Mwala now.

"Hello," she said warmly, moving away from Jean-Luc to hug her cousin. Mwala was welcoming and happy to see her. Behind them Mother was informing Tel, Mwala's very tall husband, that Jean-Luc was a starship captain. As Deanna pulled back to look Mwala in the eye, she gestured toward Jean-Luc. "This is my husband. Jean-Luc Picard."

Mwala's smile went from warm to overjoyed. _Your mother said nothing about hajira!_

_Did she tell you I'm pregnant?_

Mwala embraced her again, laughing out loud. She glanced at Tel, whose grin suggested she'd immediately informed him. "Welcome to the family, Captain," Mwala exclaimed, coming toward Jean-Luc.

For once, he didn't flinch away from physical affection from a stranger. Mwala hugged him and he even put his hands on her arms as she drew back to look him in the eye. "Marvelous," Tel said as he came forward; his wife stepped aside so he could shake Jean-Luc's hand.

"We'll be in the solarium," Lwaxana was announcing, her hands clasped in front of her. "Nida has the table ready. Come along, my lovelies!"

"Will Alexander be joining us?" Deanna asked.

"Oh, our dear Alexander said he would see us tomorrow," Mother said without giving a hint of why.

Deanna could tell Alexander was somewhere in the house, but not what he was doing. He wasn't upset, so she assumed no intervention was needed from her. She took Jean-Luc's arm and followed Mother, with Mwala and Tel coming along.

"I hear Starfleet is recruiting medical and engineering personnel, offering positions without the extensive Academy training," Tel commented. "I considered it."

Tel was a doctor, and Mwala had been an administrator in the local hospital before it was destroyed. Deanna glanced at them as they all went down the hall toward the solarium. "You did?"

He gave his wife a look, and Mwala gave Deanna a tight smile. "I know you feel at home aboard the starship you've been on, but do you fault me for my apprehension?"

"Not all positions are on a starship," Jean-Luc said.

They went through the doors as they swung open to admit them into the muggy warmth of the solarium. It was evening, so the sunlight through the translucent panes was gone, but the many tiny lights along the edges of the window panes were on, giving the effect of a night sky overhead. Deanna sighed -- the muktoks were night blooming, and the room was wonderfully fragrant.

"This is beautiful," Jean-Luc said as they reached the center of the solarium. A single table set for five stood waiting, and Nida waited at attention to the right with a large cart with a cover.

"I've always loved this arboretum," Mwala commented as she sat down with Tel. Deanna sat across from Mwala, and Jean-Luc sat next to her; she'd intentionally put herself between him and Mother, who would take the single chair at the head of the table.

"The arboretum at the El'Nar house is full of flowers from all my travels," Lwaxana said, sitting down and gesturing at Nida. The young woman wasn't Betazoid. Deanna thought she might be Ullian. Her mother seemed to have employees from all over the Federation. Not surprising, she supposed.

"We do need more officers in Starfleet," Jean-Luc said, reverting to the familiar. He seemed somewhat nervous, but in a familiar way -- the same anticipation he would have on diplomatic missions. Which this was, in a way. Trying to make peace with the Fifth House.

"I _think_ Jean-Luc would give you a tour of his ship," Lwaxana said gleefully, patting Tel's arm.

"I would like to see where you have been all this time," Mwala said to Deanna.

"We could also show you our wedding pictures," Deanna said.

"Lwaxana said you had a ceremony on Casperia. Are you also having one for the House?" Mwala asked, turning serious. "That would be a surprise."

Jean-Luc frowned. "I'm still waiting to understand what is so different about a House wedding ceremony. Can you tell me?"

"Can you promise me you won't shout about it?" Deanna smiled wincingly at him. "I think you might. Your reaction to the shirt for the festival might be predictive."

"That wasn't a shirt," he said.

Tel laughed at it. "You must be talking about the remembrance ceremony tomorrow at the Festival of Alipha. Mwala invited me to participate once, I haven't done it since. It's overwhelming, really."

That surprised Jean-Luc. It was probably because he thought Betazoids wouldn't find the ceremony as uncomfortable as he did. He glanced at Lwaxana, at Mwala, and waited while Nida placed a plate of food in front of him. He studied the unfamiliar food then, distracted by trying to identify it. Nida brought a plate for Deanna and she smiled down at the choices -- some of her favorites, as Mother knew well. But as soon as she was able to smell the spices her appetite vanished. She made a face and leaned away.

She could feel the eyes of her mother and her cousin on her. "Deanna?" Mwala said softly.

"I'm fine. Nida, do you have anything salty or sour? This is a little too sweet for me."

"I'll get you something. I'm so sorry," the cook exclaimed, taking the plate back.

"It's nothing you did -- I'm pregnant and it's changed everything up, all my old favorites just don't taste the same for some reason. Maybe you could bring some oskoid?"

"I always wanted oskoid when I was pregnant," Mwala said. "The maddening part was wanting it while I had a bout of nausea." She picked up a fork and delicately took a dab of the souffle.

"Wait until she's nine months and tired of carrying the baby," Tel said, eyeing Jean-Luc, who was now gazing at Deanna as if she might need intervention.

"Tel, don't do that," Mwala said at once. "She might not have the same problems at all. No need to make him anxious about it."

"So far it's been nothing but random tears now and then, and some appetite issues," Deanna said, watching Nida take away the cart. "How is Alai?"

"She has a new man -- it might be love," Mwala said with a smirk. "She has a restaurant in El'Nar. You should see her."

"I don't believe we'll have time, but if that changes I would love to," Deanna said. She turned to Jean-Luc. "Alai is her daughter, she's a few years older than I am. She has a habit of changing her life on a regular basis when she's bored. The last time we spoke she was a pilot?"

Mwala chuckled. "That was two changes ago. She worked at a resort for a few years before starting the restaurant."

Nida returned with a new plate of food, oskoid wrapped around savory spiced vegetables, and as it was placed in front of her she knew at once it was an improvement over the last meal. "Thank you, Nida."

Lwaxana had been nibbling at her food, and as Nida came around the table to head back to the kitchen, she waved her fingers. "Dear, don't forget the wine." She turned a shining smile on Jean-Luc. "Deanna said that you _make_ wine! How wonderful! Did you bring any to share with us?"

"I didn't bring any down with us, but it's easy enough to rectify that oversight," he said, with the usual restraint he showed when Mother made a suggestion he didn't like. "I haven't had any alcoholic beverages recently as Deanna isn't currently consuming them."

"Of course not," Mwala said. "I'll have to remind them tomorrow at the dinner not to expect her to take any of the beverages."

"Have you decided who you will be remembering?" Tel asked, looking to Lwaxana for the answer as if she made the final decision. She usually did, of course. Deanna had only been to one Festival of Alipha in her life, as it wasn't an event for children. Following along with her mother's wishes had not gone well for her. Sometimes history was made by less-than-admirable people.

"Am I understanding the festival correctly, that it's intended to provide the general population with direct experience of history?" Jean-Luc asked suddenly as Mother opened her mouth to respond. She turned to stare at him indignantly, but quickly recovered.

"That is essentially correct, yes," she said. Before she could go on, as she often did, he followed up with another question.

"Then have you ever considered simply being yourself?"

Deanna watched her mother exchange a shocked look with Mwala. No one had ever suggested this, obviously. She glanced sidelong at Jean-Luc, who was so proud of himself for thinking of this solution. 

Mother put down her fork and tilted her head, because no one ever really surprised her to the point of speechlessness. "You are suggesting that I am some sort of historical figure? What an oblique way to hint that I'm old."

Tel laughed at it, until Mwala nudged him with her elbow. Jean-Luc was somewhat flustered, but patiently explained his idea. "I am _saying_ that you have played a significant part in Federation history, by being one of our diplomats -- and Deanna has been and continues to be instrumental in the successes of the flagship of the Federation. History is merely the past, whether recent or ancient or anywhere in between. Does anyone on Betazed understand why your contributions were so important?"

Deanna swallowed the latest bite of oskoid a little too soon, coughed, and reached for the glass of water Nida had brought her. "That wouldn't work. It would risk my accidentally divulging classified information -- some of our recent missions would be too much at risk, because I'm not practiced enough with shielding specific memories. Adopting memories of a historical occurrence overrides, and sets aside the participant's personality and memories for a short duration."

"I may not have been so thorough in my description of the ceremony," Mother admitted. "She's correct, dear. I'm not sure I want to allow others to see that much of my life."

"It was a good thought. I wonder if more people understood why I'm in Starfleet if I would be criticized so much," Deanna said as she picked up another chunk of oskoid on her fork.

"What do you mean?" Jean-Luc said. 

Deanna almost asked him to table that discussion for later, but Mother picked it up and ran with it. "They're jealous of you! Let them talk, it means nothing," she scoffed. 

"Them who?"

"Being in the Fifth House requires one to develop a strong sense of reality," Mwala said. "I don't know if humans are similar but at times it seems as though some people will take a little information and make a lot of guesses that they decide are factual."

"Deanna should do as she pleases," Lwaxana announced angrily. No sense of irony either -- Deanna almost rolled her eyes. Her mother was both her harshest critic and her most ferocious advocate.

"Does that include letting my husband wear clothes at this festival? Do we really want to be like the Ferengi?" Deanna asked, as she took another bite. 

"Oh, Little One, don't start with this old argument," Lwaxana chided. If only she didn't talk to her as if she were still a child. 

"She's about to tell me that there's been progress, because we don't actually expect anyone to wear the harness and leash any more," Deanna told Jean-Luc. "It's now just a suggestion of a harness, not restrictive any more. And the husbands now wear something that resembles what the women wear, instead of the more demeaning but authentic version."

"It's true that there have been changes, accommodations," Mwala said. "Perhaps it's time again to challenge those ladies -- it takes a loud reminder, some of them live perpetually in the past."

Deanna ate more of her oskoid though she was losing her appetite again. Jean-Luc was trying his dinner, and not having much enjoyment from it but working steadily at it. So many diplomatic efforts, so much practice not complaining about food that didn't suit his palate. She smiled at him and offered a bite of her oskoid to him. He accepted it and nodded.

"Mother doesn't believe in bad oskoid. Although I'm starting to lose my appetite it has nothing to do with the food."

"You haven't eaten enough," Mother sang out in predictable dismay. "I'll get you some sadi. It settles the stomach." She stood up and hurried away through the trees.

Mwala turned from watching her go with a knowing, amused smile. "Your mother is so excited about the baby. She's going to be difficult to restrain for ten months. We may want to establish how many baby clothes you can fit in that starship."

Deanna waved behind her vaguely. "She has room after room to store them in. We have one small room approximately the same size as the bed in our guest room, for the nursery."

"Eight months," Jean-Luc said. He was eyeing Deanna's plate. She pushed it toward him.

"Or seven, depending. Human genes can influence it. He will be here when he wishes," Deanna said, smiling at her husband.

"So you're debating whether to have a House wedding for the children's sake?" Tel asked. "It wasn't something we considered."

"There are actually two kinds of House wedding. One of them is fairly easy. Two House members can marry in a relatively straightforward manner," Mwala said. "But more than a thousand years ago there were ideas about suitability and quality. There were particularly uninformed ideas about such things as the sizes of specific body parts. Again, as with the other similar outdated and unfair notions, some of the most egregious practices have been set aside and are only mentioned today."

"They don't actually measure your penis in the middle of the ceremony any more," Tel added. "Or require body piercings."

"But the tattoos are still necessary. And the language of the ceremony remains. Functionally speaking it changes nothing for you to sell yourself to the Fifth House. It isn't as though Lwaxana would actually sell you or -- "

" _Sell_ myself?" Jean-Luc blurted at last, after a moment of shock. "How would that even be possible? This is a Federation world!"

Mwala smiled sadly. "The language is ceremonial. No one has actually attempted to coerce anyone using the ceremony as a basis to do so. But attorneys have informed us that it would hold up in a court of law if someone did."

Deanna tried not to cry. But it didn't sound promising. She could imagine her mother's reaction to Jean-Luc's refusal to comply.

Before Jean-Luc could finish processing the information and overcome his dismay to respond, Mother returned with a bowl of fruit, Nida, and the wine. "Here we are! This should make you feel better, dear," she exclaimed, bringing it around to place it in front of Deanna.

"Thank you, Mother." Deanna noticed Mother had sprinkled uttaberries over the sadi, and added a drizzle of chocolate syrup.

"Deanna," Mother cajoled. "You seem so _sad._ " She put her hands on Deanna's shoulders.

"It's just another mood swing. Have some wine, Mother."

Lwaxana flitted around the table and watched Nida pour her a glass of the red wine. "Thank you, dear."

"Dee," Jean-Luc said softly.

Deanna nodded, trying to smile at him. "I know." She turned to Mwala and sent the conversation elsewhere. "If Tel joined Starfleet would you go with him, or stay here on Betazed?"


	5. Chapter 5

It was a sign of a Starfleet career that was decades-long, that when Jean-Luc woke in the strange room, laying in butter-soft sheets that smelled of some unfamiliar perfume, he briefly panicked, wondering if he had been transported to another time, another place, another life. He sat up and looked around the room -- sunlight filtered through the two layers of pink gauzy draperies illuminated the room. Then he remembered he was on Betazed.

And then he remembered they were supposed to be going to the damned festival sometime that morning. It felt like the least organized mission, to him. Lwaxana hadn't provided a time when asked, simply instructed them to get ready when they got up. Deanna had told him before bed that the event actually started later in the day and there was some leeway, they wouldn't be late until midday when the performers queued up for the walk to the location of the remembrance ceremony. Which turned out to be the government building he had asked about when they'd arrived. 

Deanna wasn't in bed. He heard nothing. He tossed back the covers, got up, walked to the bathroom, and saw that Deanna was taking a bath. She lay in the water with her head propped up on a rolled green towel. He almost spoke, but realized from her position in the water and the fact that her head had fallen to the side and down, her eyes closed, that she was dozing. He walked silently across the tiled floor to stand next to the tall oval basin and debated whether to wake her. If the sun was already up, they were losing time to prepare for the ceremony. Whether he was in it or not, she had some elaborate preparations to make.

Her head moved, and she smiled and stretched, the water lapping against the sides of the tub as she displaced it. "Good morning, lovely fish," she murmured.

"Are you speaking to me, or to them?" He pointed at the tank set into the wall over the tub -- the shining silver fish inside swam about in a small school, flashes of blue along their sides as they moved to and fro.

She sat up a little more, bending her legs, making room in the tub. He debated, and then stepped up to the ledge then over the side into the other end, to settle in the steaming water with her. She watched him and her mood showed in her face; as she awakened more she gazed at him with obvious interest.

"You wouldn't embarrass me at all if you showed up naked, you know," she said with a sly smile.

He almost growled at it, but took it for what it really was. "But why is it that you aren't showing up naked as well? If the wedding is in the nude, why aren't all the ceremonies?" Then he started to wonder. "The modern wedding ceremony is perhaps an evolution from the restrictive culture of the Houses to a more egalitarian society with personal freedoms. And the women took off their clothing, instead of the men putting them on, to demonstrate this."

"So glad you've joined me in the bath, Captain." Deanna shifted in the water, rising on the balls of her feet then pushing forward to glide along his legs and come to rest against him, breasts to chest. "Would you like to negotiate a treaty, or perhaps a merger?"

"No negotiation -- I think we're already in agreement," he murmured, as their lips met.

She had her hands on his hips and was shifting her weight to take advantage of him just the way he wanted her to, when a familiar voice called out, "yooo hooo" -- both of them froze for a few seconds. They hadn't heard the bedroom door, though the bathroom door stood wide open.

Deanna collapsed against him. "Mother," she said plaintively. "Go away."

They heard the door slam in the bedroom, through the open bathroom door.

"I know she gets so excited about things and doesn't think it through, but _how could she,_ " he exclaimed.

"Such a deflating experience." Deanna chuckled and pushed herself upward a few inches, to come to rest with her chin on his shoulder. "She was trying to tell me that the tailor is waiting with the dress."

"So we need to go."

"I share the regret. But it will take a while to get ready, it's true. We apparently slept in later than we thought, partly due to the difference in schedules, partly because we stayed up late last night talking." She slowly rearranged her limbs to stand up and leave the tub, to his disappointment. At this point he could easily be convinced to stay in bed while everyone else went to the festival.

"If she could inform you of that telepathically why come in our room?" he grumbled, grabbing the sides of the tub to pull himself up.

"Mother," Deanna said, as if it was all the explanation anyone needed. She pulled a large fluffy green towel out of a cabinet, wrapped herself in it and got another for him.

He dried his back, following her out into the bedroom, and raised an eyebrow -- she headed for the door instead of going to the closet for clothes. She hesitated with her hand on the latch. "I'm going to the wig room for hair and makeup, then to the tailor's to put on clothes -- it's a waste of time to bother with getting dressed."

"What about breakfast?" And what about me, he wanted to say. He wrapped the towel around his waist and twisted it to keep it in place around his hips. There had been no consensus on a costume.

Deanna eyed him, leaning against the door. "We'll have Nida bring it to us. You could just wear that today, I wouldn't mind."

He crossed his arms and felt his jaw stiffen.

"Mother isn't at all bothered or titillated by your nudity, or anyone else's. She's amused by what she perceives to be outdated attitudes about it. Being embarrassed about her reaction amuses her. I know you're not wanting to show off at risk of having your picture show up in the news, but your local audience won't look twice. It's not really a festival tourists attend; it's a bit boring for the non-telepaths." Deanna opened the door. "But it's your decision. I would much rather you were comfortable, of course."

"A roundabout way to tell me to stop being so human," he grumbled.

"It's just not clear to me what you're really upset _about,_ when you're seen in the nude. I know you've not been very shy on leave, it hasn't bothered you to visit Risa or Casperia. And there was that one diplomatic mission that we had to wear very little. It didn't seem to be embarrassment then. I could find out if the reporter will actually be there. My mother can ban him, she said."

"Why didn't she say so, then?" It had become part of the conversation after dinner. He had been surprised to find that once she settled down, Lwaxana could carry on a fairly serious conversation.

"Because she's Lwaxana Troi," Deanna said with a sigh. She glanced back at him in surprise when he followed her from the room. The wig room was next to the tailor's, and there was a very young Betazoid man arranging containers on a long counter. The room was also full of mirrors, on the walls and smaller ones on stands here and there on counter space. Wigs of all kinds rested on stands. Jean-Luc glanced at the man, and looked around at pictures of Lwaxana and others on the walls.

"Hello, Vin," Deanna said pleasantly to the hairdresser. "Something tall and decorated for Alipha, in black, I think." She sat down in the chair in the middle of the room, not caring that the towel had mostly fallen into her lap. She was careful on the ship, but it was obvious to him that she had no issue with being nude in any setting.

"How about this one," the hairdresser said, taking a few steps to the left and picking up a black wig with gleaming blue or purple gemstones in the curls.

"Let's try it."

Jean-Luc left her trying on the wig and went to the open door of the next room, where Yuris was hanging Deanna's dress on one of the racks on the wall. "Good morning, Captain. Any clarity on the matter of the costume?"

"Not really." There was another dress out and hung up next to Deanna's, that he assumed was Lwaxana's. There was a lot more glitter and flash to it, and more decoration on the neckline.

The Bolian was giving him a once-over, his eyes traveling up and down, which led to his feeling self conscious, but Yuris cocked his head and seemed more speculative than amused. "Frankly you would carry off the less elaborate costume well. And most humans feel skirts are associated with the female gender, so that might be a less desirable choice."

"Good morning, my dear," Lwaxana exclaimed, sweeping into the room behind him. He flinched and stepped aside as she passed him. She too was completely nude and not at all caring, as she gestured at the dress. She held out her arms and Yuris fetched undergarments from the back of a chair.

Jean-Luc was out the door and heading down the hall in an instant, feeling an urgent need to be anywhere else instead of watching someone dress Lwaxana. He returned to his room, and dressed in black pants and a white shirt, throwing on a nondescript brown jacket. He eyed the purple "shirt" that had been the first offered costume; he'd tossed it on the back of one of the chairs. 

All the times he had respected the cultures of others, he had been able to do that from a courteous distance. But he hadn't ever expected this. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to have children with Deanna, and he fully expected they would have no difficulties that were insurmountable, raising them together. It was the thought of the children finding out one day that their long lineage coming down from their mother's side had been cut off, by his inability to take off his clothes and participate in a memorial re-enactment. He could tell himself that it was simply a play, he was simply acting out a part, but expectations were clearly laid out by the nature of the costume he'd been given. The House saw him as an outsider despite the fact that he had married Deanna. And Lwaxana had made it clear already -- playing by House rules and participation were the only ways to be accepted by them.

Jean-Luc snatched up the idiotic swatch of fabric from the chair, stuffed it in the pocket of the jacket and slid his feet into his shoes. As he returned to check on Deanna, he saw Alexander coming into the foyer and detoured to greet him. Barin was with him, he realized.

"Good morning, Captain," Barin exclaimed. The Tavnian-Betazoid son of Lwaxana was smiling and happy, and a little taller than he'd been just a few months ago. Perhaps Tavnians grew faster than Betazoids. "I'm sorry that I didn't see you yesterday when I came home from school. Mother asked me to spend time with Alexander. She thought we would get along well."

"Good morning. Will you be coming to the ceremony today?" Jean-Luc tried to focus on the boy, and not on the fact that Lwaxana had clearly had Alexander babysit for her. Although she may have explicitly asked him to do so. Barin was still very young.

"It doesn't sound like something I would enjoy," Alexander said. "But the celebration tomorrow sounded like it might be fun."

"Today is for telepaths. Tomorrow will be dancing and a banquet at the dance hall in Medara," Barin said, probably quoting Lwaxana. 

"Wow," Alexander exclaimed. He was staring past Jean-Luc.

Deanna came out into the hallway wearing the wig and heading into the dressing room, the towel wrapped around her. "Hello," she said cheerfully. "I'll be back in a minute." She went into the room and closed the door behind her.

"It's getting late and they need to finish getting ready," Barin said. "We're going to the kitchen for breakfast."

"I think I will come with you," Jean-Luc said, as Nida came through the foyer with a tray of food, headed in to give the ladies of the House their breakfast. He would wait until the decision had to be made to make it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may remember in 'Friends and Lovers' when Will tells Jean-Luc about the traditional House wedding, and Jean-Luc simply smiles and says nothing further. This chapter would be why.

The journey back to town required the larger vehicle, and Homn took them to the back entrance to the statehouse. All of the House women participating in the remembrance ceremony were staging there, to emerge on the square in front of the building to the waiting crowds.

Deanna sat with Jean-Luc on the seat in the passenger compartment looking across at her mother. Lwaxana was quiet -- riding with her eyes closed, preparing for the immense psychic effort that would be the ceremony. Deanna fully anticipated a headache that would last a day. She'd already stashed four hypos in the internal pocket that Yuris had added in the folds of the dress she wore. 

The car stopped, and the side opened upward, so they could step out. Jean-Luc disembarked first and turned to hold up a hand. Deanna gathered up her skirts in one hand and carefully sidled over to take his hand, stepping down on the pavement and glancing up at the sky. It was clear today, at least. She knew there would be rain tomorrow. As she turned, she felt the high collar of the short cape that Yuris had added to the costume. She inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the heavy weight of expectation settling in her stomach. 

"Cygne," Jean-Luc murmured. He still wore the very plain outfit he'd put on that morning. 

"You don't need to talk to them," she said, squeezing his fingers. "I'm going to resolve the issue once and for all. It's my tradition, my negotiation to make. Do you trust me to do that?"

"Yes. Of course." He smiled and seemed a bit relieved.

"Deanna?" Lwaxana had stepped out after them and been momentarily distracted by settling her dress in place around her, straightening folds and flounces and draped material -- Deanna supposed in the way it was all supposed to be but who knew, the elaborate costumes were annoyingly heavy and complicated.

"Don't worry. I'm not asking you to advocate for me, Mother. I want to do this on my own."

Lwaxana's smile flickered and died. But she came over, their skirts brushing together and deforming slightly as she leaned to lightly kiss Deanna's cheek. She led the way toward the broad doors, which two young men were waiting to open for them.

Jean-Luc walked with her, still holding her hand, and Deanna could sense his curiosity and a little anxiety. But he also seemed to understand her determination and some of the anxiety was anticipation.

Down the well-lit hallway they went, her shoes clicking on the laminate flooring. They followed Mother into the large front hall; the mutter of conversation died, as Mother cleared the hallway. Mother greeted everyone in Betazoid and the others greeted her in return, a ritual back-and-forth. There weren't many of the next generation present. Mother and her peers, and three out of six had brought their daughters. No one had brought a spouse. The front hall was where statuary of influential House Betazoids had been erected on pedestals; all around them along the walls, her larger-than-life ancestors looked down upon them.

Deanna smiled grimly, trying to appear as though the ire of the gathered ladies was irrelevant. She glanced at Jean-Luc; he was observing disapproval in faces, and looking to her for how to make sense of it.

_We're never going to meet their approval. Don't worry about it. Just wait._

"This is my husband, Jean-Luc Picard," Deanna said loudly before her mother could get to it. She addressed everyone in Standard, when anyone who didn't know Betazoid was present. She knew they would respond in kind.

That led to the ladies closing in on her, eyeing him. They all wore versions of the same dress as Mother's, in the colors of their Houses. Red, green, blue, white, black and yellow. Yora, the leader of the First House, drew herself up to her full height. "No," she exclaimed in Standard. "He is not."

Deanna noticed her mother almost speaking up; she closed her mouth again and bowed her head, respecting her previous assertion for now. She'd sparred endlessly with these ladies in her lifetime. No doubt it was a relief to her to have someone else to argue with them. Jean-Luc almost argued, she sensed the frustration, but he waited to see what she would do.

Deanna looked back and forth at the faces of her mother's peers and remembered how her parents had struggled with the House tradition, and drew herself up. "I am Deanna Troi, at this time. When I am not on Betazed I am Commander Deanna Troi, an officer serving on the flagship of the Federation. I served throughout the Dominion War, and my family has worked with all of yours during the recovery effort. I continue to serve in Starfleet at this time because I feel that is the best way for me to help in the recovery effort, because -- for reasons that I can't divulge to any of you due to your lack of clearance -- there are _valid concerns_ that I have, about the future of my home." 

She paused and took slow steps toward Yora, though all of them were bristling with anger. "Here are my terms for my continued participation. My husband will wear what he wants to the festival. We will have a House wedding, after you either change the wording of the ceremony or you provide legal documents assuring him of his retention of his individual rights as a citizen of the Federation. If these terms are not met, I will become Deanna Picard, leaving the House forever, to raise my _children_ in dual citizenship on Betazed and Earth. All the Fifth House properties can be divided up between you as you please. Because I intend to put _Betazed_ before your fusty old traditions that make it impossible to find a husband who will stick around long enough to _have_ children, after he finds out that he must sign himself away to the House. Also -- the Federation Council will be informed of your continued practice of _slavery_ which I am sure you will recall is illegal in the Federation, and may threaten Betazed's membership. My third condition -- the media from Federation news outlets will be banned from the festivals."

She added the third condition as an afterthought, as the impact of her calm words spread. Yora was shocked -- Mother had covered her mouth with both hands, almost laughing, shedding a few happy tears. Since after a moment no one spoke Deanna went on. 

"I apologize if this choice seems impossible for you to make," she said, taking a conciliatory tone. "Perhaps it will drive home to you how the Houses have been sacrificing the futures of individuals to the tyranny of a tradition that should be left in the past. All your complaints about my long absence from the festivals may also make more sense. There are ways to remember our traditions without tying ourselves to them."

Someone stifled a laugh -- Deanna saw that Redal had come forward, to stand with her mother in the golden light filtered by the dome high overhead. The rest were either insulted and angry, or curious, waiting for Yora to respond to her. Yora herself continued to glare down her nose at Deanna, her dark eyes glittering. Deanna waited while the bane of her mother's existence wavered and seemed to be warring within herself.

"I am sure that Betazed will be devoting all its resources to building a defensive fleet, should you decide on their behalf that you would prefer to hold future generations hostage to the past in the name of tradition," Deanna added softly. " _If there are any future generations._ "

A wave of dismay as that final push drove it all home to them.

Deanna turned, walking slowly to the left away from Yora, toward Jean-Luc. He was trying so hard not to enjoy this. Of course, he only knew his own frustrations; he couldn't know that Yora had humiliated the much-younger Deanna at one of these festivals, by demanding that she perform telepathically on a par with her peers.

"We have considered your proposal," Yora announced, her superiority echoing in the hall. Deanna turned around slowly and waited. Some of the other ladies were turning away already; the ones with daughters present were reaching out, to embrace them. Redal was beaming at Deanna, shaking her head slowly. Clearly there had been telepathic conversation in the room. Mother had turned away and stood holding herself. Deanna would have gone to her if not for the need to wait for her answer.

Diwa stepped past Yora, resplendent in glittering red. "We have agreed that you are correct, that it is time to change the requirements -- there have been times over past centuries that it became clear to us that adjustments had to be made. So we will concede to your wisdom."

"Thank you," Deanna said. She gestured at Jean-Luc as he stepped up to stand with her. "What do you want to wear?"

He surprised her by pulling the original 'shirt' out of the jacket pocket. "Since it has become a matter of choice, and not a requirement, I can actually pay my respects instead of feeling trapped."

"Are you participating in the remembrance, Captain?" Redal asked, sounding friendly instead of stilted and begrudging.

"I planned to, yes."

That made a definite impression. The ladies were all startled, and looking at each other with wide eyes.That was a good thing -- the entire point of participating was to earn them points, so they would all show up at their House wedding. Which would only take place if all the Houses were represented.

"We will begin shortly," Diwa said. "You should prepare if you need to." There was a hint of condescension in the statement, but Deanna ignored it as she had every other slight over the years.

"There's a room back here, dear," Lwaxana spoke up, hurrying back toward the hall. "To leave your clothing, for the duration of the ceremony."

Deanna tucked her arm through Jean-Luc's and accompanied him from the hall, following Lwaxana as the conversation likely continued telepathically behind them. The room was one of the meeting rooms, with a large table and chairs. A bust of her great-great-great grandmother presided over the room from a tall column at the far end. Lwaxana spun and threw her arms around Deanna, finally laughing out loud.

_I'm so proud of you, Little One._

"Thank you, Mother. Go mingle, we'll be there in a minute."

Deanna watched her go. Jean-Luc was undressing, had tossed the jacket over the back of a chair, and unfastened his pants.

"You're sure you want to do this?"

"How difficult can it be after everything else I've been through?" He dropped his pants, revealing a pair of skin-tight shorts the color of his skin. It made her laugh.

"I see you found the replicator at home. I should warn you that it's overwhelming to be given the memories telepathically, when you're not a telepath."

"Why do I have a hunch there is a lot you haven't told me about your past in dealing with these women?" He lay the shirt on the back of the chair with the jacket and pants, and threw on the pretense of a purple shirt.

"Because there is a lot that I haven't told you. If you want to know more about it, we can talk after the ceremony. I've grown up a lot since Yora was able to make me weep about being 'just an empath.'"

He came to her, in his ridiculous costume yet impressively fit and looking quite all right just the same. "I'm proud of you. That was the calmest dismissal I've ever heard."

"Definitely nothing I could have done prior to the Dominion War. The advantage is mine -- I have Starfleet and Earth, if I am tossed off Betazed forever. They need me far more than I need them. If I had put an end to the Fifth House at this time it further weakens the restoration effort." She smiled and touched his cheek. "Are you ready, my fish?"

"Quite confident now, with my Betazoid warrior," he said, gesturing at the skirts of her dress. "No doubt you have your bat'leth in here somewhere."

"This is Betazed. Wars are fought here very differently. As you'll soon find out."


	7. Chapter 7

"Jean?"

He had difficulty walking. Things seemed to be overlapping, and there was a ringing in his ears.

"Jean-Luc?"

Stumbling, he grabbed something cold and tried not to fall down. Hands on his shoulders -- could it be Shweva?

A hand touched his face, and dark eyes looked into his. He felt warm, suddenly. Closed his eyes and drifted for a minute, and when he opened them again, things were clearer. His name wasn't Jal, and they were standing on the pavement in front of the statehouse surrounded by ladies in elaborate dresses. The crowd around the square was dissipating. The sun shining overhead. Hours had passed.

His ears rang louder and his head hurt, as he squinted and tried to focus.

"Is he all right?" Lwaxana asked. She was the closest, leaning in over Deanna's shoulder.

"I am surprised he is awake," one of the women wearing a white dress said.

"Light-headed and disoriented. I'll take him inside."

Shweva had to peel his fingers off the side of the door and guide him through the door. The tile floor was warmer than the pavement outside.

No, this was Deanna. The double vision returned, and things got fuzzy. He trusted her and shuffled forward with her.

"Captain."

He inhaled roughly, drawing himself up, feeling that pull him forward. "Something...."

"It was difficult for you to embody Jal. You weren't able to hold yourself as separate. We won't be doing this again."

"It feels strange," he said, looking at one of the statues in the hall. The nude life-like statue of a woman seemed to have a hazy halo in shades of blue.

"I know. Come in here. Your clothes are here. Let's put them on you."

She took off the costume and put the shirt over his head. He tried to put his arms through the sleeves, managed with her help, then put on his pants slowly, using one hand to hang on to a chair. She had him sit down and rest. As she turned to drape the scant costume over the back of a chair, the door opened behind her. He didn't remember her closing it. A man walked into the room. He felt he should recognize this person, but the name eluded him.

"Mwala suggested I come check on him, Lwaxana told her he's not feeling well?"

"Yes, he's struggling to recover from the remembrance," Deanna said. "I can tell he's nauseated and has a headache. His disorientation isn't going away."

The man put a bag on the table and opened it. The device he brought from it seemed strange, yet very familiar. Lights flashed on the end of it as the man pointed it. "Dehydrated, and his neural activity is all over the place. I'm no expert in human physiology but this was clearly overwhelming for him."

Deanna touched his arm. A white glow surrounded her head. The elaborate dark purple dress whispered when she moved, and as she leaned to look him in the eye, she afforded him a perfect angle to notice her cleavage. "Tell me how you're feeling."

"You already know, apparently."

"What's your name?"

There was a brief internal war, over that point. He didn't understand how he could be both -- it took effort to choose. "Jean-Luc Picard."

"He's better, but still struggling. Do you have anything that can help him recover?" Deanna asked.

The man -- Tel, the name came to him suddenly -- turned to poke through his bag. "Let's see if this will help." 

"I have an analgesic, because I have gotten headaches after these events before."

Tel pressed a hypo to Jean-Luc's throat. "This is a little beyond a headache, I think. How are you feeling now, Jean-Luc?"

"The aura around everything seems less vivid." The one around Deanna's head was less intense.

"Let's try the analgesic, and I might have some inaprovaline here."

Jean-Luc closed his eyes, when he noticed the amorphous electric blue shapes moving around on the ceiling. They administered two more hypos and he heard the tricorder working again. Opening his eyes, he glanced around the room. The auras and other odd hallucinations were gone. Jal was farther away now, feeling more like a memory than an identity. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Tel. We'll be out in a minute. I want to give him a little more time."

Tel tossed the used hypos in his bag, smiled at them, and left the room. They were, Jean-Luc realized, in the room in the statehouse, and alone. Jal had been an angry, cruel man, obsessed with righting the wrongs done to men. He had waged war from within an unbalanced system, using a unique talent he had for directly manipulating the minds of others. Which made his control over Shweva make more sense than it had before. That Shweva had managed to break free of his control said a lot about her own strength. 

"I don't remember the ceremony. I remember what happened, between Jal and Shweva," he confessed.

"The re-enactment of Jal's trial went well. Do you remember speaking Betazoid?"

He raised an eyebrow. With very little effort, he spoke a few words in the foreign language, recognizing his own terrible accent as he did so. Deanna laughed at him, pulled out a chair and sat down carefully, holding her skirts just so to avoid bunching them under her.

"Almost as bad as your accent when you speak Klingon. The next phase of the ceremony is less participation, more observation. We aren't playing parts. The ladies of the House will bless the harvest and share a ceremonial meal of bread made of traditional grains from Third Province, and then we'll have a couple of hours of being available for the audience to mingle with us and ask questions."

"Good, because I have questions."

The door opened again. Yora entered the room, less angry than before, but still tight-lipped and disapproving. She halted several paces from them and inclined her head slightly, imperious and gazing at them with a raised eyebrow. "How is he?"

"Recovered, I think." Deanna glanced at him, and he thought she must be expecting him to say something.

"Thank you, for allowing me to participate."

That led to a pause, and he had the impression she hadn't anticipated his response. "We do not have many offworld spouses among us. I would like to know why you are here, Captain."

"I wanted to know more about Deanna's heritage," he said, sitting up a little straighter. "I feel an obligation to learn more about the Fifth House. If one or more of my children wanted to participate I want to be able to help them understand it. My own family has a long heritage and its own traditions, though none so formalized as this. And I study history, generally, of many worlds. I believe that learning about the past helps us understand ourselves."

He must have passed Yora's test. She seemed to loosen up slightly. She was the first Betazoid he'd seen with pale blond hair, and wondered if it was a wig. The tall spiral must have added another foot to her already-considerable height. Her dark eyes flicked left slightly, to Deanna. "You were being honest, but Nora questioned whether you were attempting to manipulate."

Deanna's smile flattened. "I cannot imagine that it hasn't been noticed, that no one likes the ceremonies we're forced through. I didn't like channeling Shweva. Has no one ever gotten to the point that they just wanted to stop being part of a House?"

Yora's lips actually twitched into a slight smile. "Yes. But only a few have. Some return after they have children. Were you serious about a House wedding?"

"Jean-Luc is very serious about giving his children opportunities to understand their heritage," Deanna said, turning to look at him. 

"I nearly abandoned my own," he confessed. "I have since returned to Earth and repented of that action. I think that the war reminded many of us of things that we may have set aside, for a time."

"So what do you think of the Fifth House?" 

It was hard to tell what motivated that question. It was obvious enough that she was not completely satisfied with his answers. Jean-Luc sighed, thinking of all the times he had dealt with Lwaxana. "I have no real feelings regarding the Fifth House. I have always had difficulty getting along with Lwaxana. But Deanna and I have always been friends, and we work well together. She's helped me many times with the most difficult challenges I've faced. I want to help her with her obligations."

"It's unusual for an offworlder to show so much investment in our traditions." Yora turned her head as if listening to something. She gave a slight nod. "We should return, if you are ready. If we have an opportunity, Captain, I would like to know more about your tradition."

"Perhaps there will be time at the dinner."

Yora turned, her skirts rustling as she sped from the room. Jean-Luc turned to Deanna to find her watching him thoughtfully. 

"How do you feel this is going?"

She smiled sadly. "It's too soon to tell. It felt like a victory, earlier, but one of the more frustrating problems that Mother has had over the years has been capriciousness -- the other ladies will agree to things, and recant when they find out they have no support after all."

They turned as one at the sound of the door opening again. Redal, grinning broadly, came with outstretched arms. "So good to see you again," she exclaimed as Deanna stood to embrace her. 

Jean-Luc got up as well, noticing that he felt much more grounded than before. He reached for the jacket to put it on. 

"Mother and I were invited to your mother's house at El'Nar for a dinner in three days," Redal said as she backed a step and glanced at Jean-Luc. "I have to wonder what for."

"Did she say anything to you about a party?" Deanna asked Jean-Luc. "We were planning to rest for a day and then go sightseeing, visit some of the other Fifth House properties. Not have a party."

"She said nothing to me, but I wonder if it's supposed to be a surprise," he said. "She really was very happy about the baby."

Redal _squealed_ , which was completely unexpected -- he winced, but that went unnoticed as the woman launched herself again at Deanna. Deanna's expression of longsuffering as she hugged her cousin again suggested that it was but the beginning. 

"I'm _so happy_ for you," Redal cried as they parted. "It seems like we rarely get to celebrate a child being born into a House!"

"How are our friends, Narviat and Tarel?" Deanna asked. It was a deflection, and Redal sobered, no doubt recognizing it as such.

"They're in the crowd outside. Being impressed by Jean-Luc's performance."

"I don't remember my performance, so no way to know whether they are delusional or not." Jean-Luc didn't like 'performing' and didn't like that he could not remember the ceremony. Only the memories of Jal, doing as he had, feeling as he had -- it was like the previous experience with the Kataani probe, only so much more disturbing to find he'd channeled a very hostile and vindictive person.

Redal giggled at him. "You did _much_ better than anyone would expect a human to -- Yora thought you would fail miserably and humiliate the Fifth House, which was likely exactly what she wanted after Deanna stood up to her."

Jean-Luc glanced at Deanna, to see her reaction to that statement. She wasn't surprised, but she wasn't happy either. "We're only here because we know we need the support for a House wedding, which is only important to us because it's the preliminary to giving the children an opportunity they wouldn't have otherwise."

Redal pressed her lips together -- now she was as disgruntled as Deanna, thinking about it. "I wish you would talk to Diwa about it."

"Diwa? What could she do?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Diwa is the Daughter of the Fourth House. She could adopt you into our House, saving you all the time and energy of trying to negotiate with the other ladies. Once you're a member of the Fourth House, it would become impolite for the other Houses to reject you as a spouse of a Daughter of the Fifth House. And the House-to-House wedding ceremony requires less pomp and circumstance overall -- the ceremony is straightforward too. When Challa married Yora's son, it was a single day of celebrating, instead of a week."

"Are you saying we wouldn't have to keep running gauntlets in these festivals, trying to win them over?" Jean-Luc asked, skeptical that it would be that easy.

"Do you think Diwa would consider it?" Deanna was smiling, thinking no doubt of all the ways that would make life easier. She'd listed out all the festivals with him and all the things that House women were supposed to do for each.

"If she likes Jean-Luc. You should talk to her. I'll talk to her." Redal touched his shoulder, smiling warmly. "I agree with you. If we don't change the way things are done, we're going to lose the Houses completely. It's too much burden to participate. People have different priorities now."

Jean-Luc was dismayed when the door opened again, and this time it was Lwaxana. "Come along, dears," she crooned. "We're supposed to be outside! It's time for the next ceremony. Are you feeling better, Jean-Luc?"

"Yes, much. Thank you." He wondered why Lwaxana had not mentioned the option that Redal had brought up, but tabled that for later. "I'm still very tired, but I can make it through the next phase of the ceremony. You said we would head home to change for the dinner?"

"Yes, that will be in the Fifth House. But later. Come along," she exclaimed in her usual sing-song happy way.

Jean-Luc stepped into his shoes as Lwaxana exited the room again in a swirl of skirts. Redal shot him a conspiratorial glance, and followed her.

"I know you were frustrated that I couldn't tell you how this might go. Are you feeling better about it now?" Deanna asked.

He took a moment to gaze at her -- she looked so different, with all her hair swept upward in a tall beehive and supporting the wig full of sparkling gemstones, the dress hiding what he knew to be a muscular and slender body beneath layers of fabric. "Yes. I should have known you would find a way."

"I wasn't at all certain, given the tensions here with the recovery effort unbalancing everyone and the fear for the future. But I have more hope than I did yesterday that it can be resolved without great sacrifice on our parts." She held out a hand, which he took, and they went out to finish the day's ceremonial duties.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The episodes Dark Page and Haven have been referred to several times throughout, this chapter more specifically calls out material from Dark Page.

Walking into the bedroom in her mother's house, Deanna started to shed pieces of the costume, starting with the wig -- it took too long to pull out pins and clips, but she finally removed it and was pulling stray pins from her hair when Jean-Luc got there.

"Need a little help?" He came to the table in the middle of the room, picked up the hook and went around her skirts to work on the long row of buttons on the back of the dress.

"I really want to stop wearing these dresses. I don't know how Mother stands it." She tugged off the long lacy sleeves and dropped them next to the wig, unclipped the cape and collar from her throat and tossed it on the rest.

"If Redal can talk her mother into doing as she suggested you may not have to do it again. That was very kind of her, to suggest the workaround." He was working the hook and the tight bodice gradually loosening. Deanna inhaled deeply for the first time all day and relaxed at last. When the dress was completely undone she let it fall to the floor and stepped out of it.

They hung the costumes in the closet, and she selected one of the more normal and modern dresses, still purple because it was a House event, but no stays or itchy fabrics. "I'm going to shower. Would you like to join me?"

"I would be happy to help you wash your back. How is your stomach?"

"Better." The blessing of the crops ceremony involving the ingesting of grain product had not helped; all the tension from the other ladies and her mother, on top of Jean-Luc's difficulties with the remembrance ceremony, had upset her stomach, and the grain had finally turned it. She'd ended up in one of the bathrooms in the statehouse vomiting. She still felt a little nausea, but he was calm and they'd left all the House ladies and the crowds far behind, so that helped. Deanna stepped out of her underwear, stretched with her arms high over her head, leaning to and fro. Jean-Luc was deep in thought, though he was watching her. "Is something wrong? You've been quiet, since we left Medara."

"I was just thinking about all of it -- how completely I became someone else, how unconcerned everyone was, that Jal was so vicious yet I was so caught up in being him."

"It was a memory. It wasn't as though Jal himself possessed you, in any meaningful fashion. They chose a sequence of events in which he did nothing violent. I should have known you were having difficulty maintaining your separate self when you took off the shorts you intended to wear. And you notice no one said a word about it."

He followed her into the bathroom, removing his own jacket and shirt. "I did notice. I think more than anything else I wanted to avoid your mother's commentary."

"She's seen plenty of penises. I think she could tell you how many." Deanna leaned into the large stall to set water temperature and turn on the flow. She glanced at him; he'd dropped his pants, and stepped out of them. He really was in fine shape and had nothing to be embarrassed about. She refrained from telling him that, however.

"I wouldn't do any of this for just anyone, you know," he said quietly, as he stood on the white tiles barefoot, looking at her with his serious captain's demeanor. Just the corner of his mouth gave away the impish nature of the deadpan. Deanna touched his chest lightly, looking him in the eye, enjoying her husband's happiness and hoping the rest of their time on Betazed could be so relaxed that he could continue to feel it. 

"I thought you were doing it for your daughter."

That tugged his lips into a smile. "Yes. But also I suspect that it will make it easier for you. If the potential fallout of abandoning the Fifth House for you can be avoided, so much the better."

That persistent way he had of recognizing potential difficulties and doing whatever he could to protect her could show up at the most unexpected moments. Deanna looked down, wanting to not cry, blinking and shaking her head. "I love you," she murmured.

He stepped in, touching her hip and sliding his hand along her back, leaning in to kiss her temple. It took a moment to remember they were there to shower; _hajira_ sang in her ears, and he was so warm and solid, as she put her arms around him and felt the last of the day's tension ease. He stepped into the shower and as he moved she did too, in the synchrony that the bond gave them.

They didn't often take showers together, so it was a bit awkward at first. They circled, each of them getting wet. He figured out where the soap was -- a dispenser built into the wall of the shower -- then started at the top of her head and lathered her first. She chuckled at his careful attention to her body and started to wriggle against him, sharing the soap. His arms around her, he kissed her and kept his hands moving, but slower, one sliding up to the back of her head, the other coming to rest over her right buttock. She lost herself in the kiss, in the emotions both of them were feeling as he pushed her against the wall and blocked the spray with his body. 

He was holding her tightly enough that she picked up one leg, ran her thigh up his as she pushed her tongue into his mouth. When his fingers found their way into her, she moaned and her left knee almost folded; his hand went back to her buttock and he pressed his penis into her, pushing into her and holding her up, so she lifted her other leg and wrapped herself around him. He almost lost her, had to rapidly switch his other hand to hold her up against the wall, and started to rapidly thrust in and out. She gasped, laughing, enjoying his excitement and unexpected sex, tried not to upset their balance and was on the verge of slipping down when he came. He had to pull out and she put her feet down before she fell. 

"That was different," she mumbled against his mouth, as she kissed him in parting. They moved around so both of them were able to rinse and she tipped her head back to get soap out of her hair. 

"Irresistible," he said, turning about once then stepping out and closing the door again. 

"If only rinsing off were so simple for me. I could shave off my hair, that would speed up things significantly," she said over the noise of the water. It took another minute to finish rinsing, and she turned off the water. As she wrung water out of her curls, he opened the door and was there with one of the towels, holding it up. She stepped out into it. 

"I think shaving off your hair is a violation of uniform code," he said.

"Really?" She patted his head and dried herself, following him out into the bedroom as she twisted her hair up into the towel. 

"Yes, it's against my uniform code. Starfleet has nothing to say about hair but I want you to keep it."

Deanna eyed him with a raised eyebrow and turned to the closet, to the bank of drawers inside where they had put the clothing they'd brought with them. Once in a fresh set of underwear, she went to the bed and sat to put on some black net stockings. Jean-Luc had put on shorts and brought out his suit and a white shirt. She put on the dress next, and returned to the bathroom to style her hair.

While she was putting on makeup he came in fully dressed. She stopped applying lipstick to admire him. White shirt open at the collar, showing a triangle of gray chest hair. Black jacket. Black slacks.

"I'm not sure I should let you out of the bedroom," she said, turning back to her reflection in the mirror.

Leaning against the counter, he watched her pick up a brush. A flirtatious little smirk was his only response.

She pulled off the towel and brushed tangles from her hair, then applied the leave-in conditioner and chose a large jeweled clip from her cosmetics case open on the counter. The braiding was slow, as she pulled sections of hair back and wove them down her head from the crown.

Jean-Luc watched, then turned and stood behind her, reaching up to take the ends of the braid in his left hand, select some hair from the right side of her head over her ear, and add it to the braid. Deanna smiled at her reflection and let her hands rest on the edge of the counter. As minimal as that encouragement was, he continued ever so carefully to braid her hair.

She took over when there was only a few inches of unbraided hair left, tucked it up and added the clip to hold all of it together. "Do you approve?" she asked, holding out her arms and spinning slowly in place.

"It's tempting, you know. We could go out somewhere else, just the two of us."

"Oh, I'm positive that would be enjoyable, instead of a cavernous, cold room at the Fifth House full of the haughty House ladies. But duty calls." 

The wrinkle in his brow at the top of his nose and the concern he felt stopped her before she could turn to go. They stood in the white-tiled bathroom for a moment of silence.

"Jean?"

"While there have been moments of happy distraction, I believe being here has been more difficult than you're telling me. I thought at first it would be dealing with the House logistics but you made it clear that you would walk away rather than let it dictate your life any more than it has. What is it that's been bothering you?"

Deanna took a step toward him and put her hands on his chest, looking into his eyes. "Just old memories. Nothing serious. Regrets and melancholia, it isn't fatal."

"Anything you'd like to talk about?" he asked.

She took a moment appreciating this from a man who had for years never been one to indulge in extended conversation with other officers if he could avoid it. All those hours in counseling, while he dodged her efforts to get him to go into more detail about his feelings. He may not tell her in so many words every day that he loved her, but the fact that they were standing in her mother's house, getting ready for a dinner with a group of women who would likely disrespect both of them, was proof enough that he was taking the marriage vows very seriously indeed. It reminded her again of Will Riker's reaction, years ago, and that led to more regret. That emotion was obvious to Jean-Luc, and so he felt more concern, continued to look at her with worry written in his face.

Mother hadn't yet made contact telepathically to tell her it was time to go. So perhaps this was as good a time as any to talk to him about this.

"Let's sit down," she said, leading him out into the bedroom. She glanced at the chairs near the windows, so comfortable-looking, but went to the bed and sat, bending to pick up her shoes and slip them on. He sat with her, watching her lift one foot then the other, and sit up to face him.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about how I got here -- meaning who I am now. Because of course Betazed reminds me of who I am in relation to the House, and my family, as well as when I almost married before I started my Starfleet career. And Will's attitude at our wedding followed by talking to Bell here and there over the past months leads me to some small epiphanies about myself. I'm not liking myself much at the moment, but it will pass with time."

"Ah," he said, then paused. She appreciated him again, for not responding with the usual things that humans might say to her about that. Jean-Luc didn't much care for platitudes or other dismissive reactions, particularly to serious situations.

"I can answer questions, if you have them, about why I feel this way. I think it's not necessary to go into detail about my feelings at this point?"

Jean-Luc guffawed at that. "A dodge worthy of Captain Picard in counseling."

She smiled with him, thinking about some of his better attempts. "I'm sorry. Why do you want to know about my meanderings in the past?"

"I suppose I don't have to, if you don't want to talk about it." He started to button up his shirt, then his black jacket.

"Do you remember when the Cairn came aboard, and Mother had all those difficulties before we understood what was happening to her?"

That brought his eyes back up to meet hers. "I do. Why?"

"I don't remember if you were in Ten Forward when she shouted at Will and accused him of keeping me from finding a husband and having children?"

That brought the wrinkle back to his brow. "I was not. Did she actually say that?"

"She did, and she slapped him. I took her to sickbay at that point. She was apologetic, of course, when she recovered from her fit of anger. But I realized after that, long after we'd dropped her off and gone our way to the next mission, that she was wrong, and she was right. Will _was_ keeping me from finding happiness with someone, because I was allowing him to, and everyone around us was aware so no one on the ship wanted to approach me. For years I let Will go back and forth, with me. Worf questioned whether he could attempt a relationship with me, for fear of upsetting Will. I decided that I didn't want to let Will's vacillating have an impact any longer on my potential future with someone else. So when Worf finally asked, I said yes." Deanna shrugged uncomfortably, thinking about the fallout of that decision. More regrets lay in wait there. She tried not to think about it overmuch.

"And Will wasn't happy at all," Jean-Luc said. It wasn't a question or a guess. Something he had observed.

"He was angry, and knew better than to express it. I never spoke to him about Worf, and I never asked him -- he simply said what he always said, whatever makes me happy, and so I did my best to ignore him." Deanna winced as unexpected sadness welled up. "Sorry. I've never spoken to anyone about this."

"I understand."

"I don't doubt this sort of thing is why you avoided intimate relationships for so long."

He nodded slowly, thinking and feeling in ways that told her he was remembering something himself. "I wouldn't say that I avoided them specifically. More that I avoided distractions. I was at a place in life when I would have been vulnerable to them. I wonder if you are feeling guilty about the distress Will is going through?"

This was becoming less and less comfortable all the time. Deanna wished she hadn't started this conversation in the first place. "If I had listened to my counselor years ago, I would have drawn a boundary and not indulged him each time he started back down the road to a relationship with me. I would have asked him not to try again. Stopped spending time with him off duty."

"If you could travel back in time, you mean. I was told once by my counselor that such guilt is a dead end. Your younger self had not the context nor the wisdom to understand the consequences of each little choice she made, ultimately."

"Quoting my words back at me only underscores that I'm not so great at relationships as I thought I was," she said, looking away. She closed her eyes rather than look at the room they were in.

"You have always been a good counselor," he insisted. She felt his hand close around hers, and when she opened her eyes again, found he'd moved closer to her and was looking intently at her face. "When you're not blaming yourself for things beyond your control, you still are. You know this."

"I know that I love you, and I'll get past the melancholy. I'm probably only caught up in it to this degree because I am tired and hormonal. Someone is probably going to ask me about Will, sometime soon. A few of my friends remember him." She sighed, thinking of Bell's last message, in which her new friend had said that she still wasn't certain it would last, with Will. "And I don't think that we've heard the last from him. He behaved well at the wedding, and he _was_ happy for us. But I don't believe it was a resolution for him."

"I'll just hope that he is working on resolving his own feelings before it becomes a problem," Jean-Luc said firmly. "Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?"

"More than you've already done, you mean?" She touched his face and leaned to kiss him lightly on the lips.

"You're sure you want to attend this dinner?"

"I'm sure that I do not, but I'm going, and I'll have you to talk to if no one else will. Mother will be caught up in her usual focus on the event itself."

"Surely the Fifth House is large enough that we can take a break from everything here and there?"

That reminded her of a time when she and Will had done something similar. But he was warm and present, and more than enough to remind her that she had a bright future. "Let's go see if Mother is ready to go."

"I hope that after tomorrow's event we have the opportunity to do a little of our own sightseeing," he said.


	9. Chapter 9

Jean-Luc finished the climb up the rickety ladder and emerged into an area that clearly hadn't been used much. In the light of the moons, he could see a few chairs on a tiled floor, many of the tiles cracked and shattered, within a dome of wrought metal. He tried not to catch his suit on the curled top end of the handrail as he stepped off the top rung, and held a hand down to give Deanna a little help as she came up behind him. A light breeze brought some of the perfumed scent of flowers to them on the roof of the Fifth House.

Deanna looked around, made a face as she noticed the condition of the tiles. "It's been so many years," she said, almost stumbling. She leaned on his arm and caught her balance.

"This might have been some sort of scaffolding to mount a telescope?" He pointed at the vertical beams bolted to the tile, standing beneath a large hole in the gridwork. She'd said there was a telescope up here, but it was gone now.

"Mother didn't say anything about it being missing. I wonder what happened to it? She was always so caught up in the minutiae of the House, it's hard to believe it's gotten this bad up here."

The dinner had been dreadfully boring, as expected, and he'd asked about her equivalent of his treehouse, hoping to escape. They had been seated with the Fifth House, at the opposite end of the rectangular table from Mwala and her husband. Jean-Luc had been sitting next to a stuffy older gentleman who refused to speak aloud and was clearly affronted by Jean-Luc's attempt at conversation. Across the table from them, two older women had quizzed Deanna endlessly in a manner that initially seemed to be an effort at conversation, but the women were so relentless about requesting trivial information about life on a starship that Jean-Luc could only guess that they were being deliberately provocative. After dessert, everyone got up and went outside into a large patio under strings of lights, where music was playing and after-dinner drinks were served. At that point he whispered in Deanna's ear and they escaped instead of moving out into the crowd.

"Well, disappointing as it is that we can't peer up at the stars using a telescope, we have a good bird's eye view of the grounds," Jean-Luc said, as they moved to the east side of the dome. The tops of trees were visible, and peering downward they could see the lights around the patio. The lower notes of the song being played drifted up to them from four stories down.

Deanna said nothing, merely stood at his side looking out through the metalwork. He put his arm around her, which led to her leaning in; as he suspected she was cold.

"Tomorrow we can sleep in for a while, which is a good thing. This has been a long day. I'm surprised that I've made it this long without dozing off."

"My cousins kept you awake with their disdain?"

"I didn't think they could be so interested in the cleaning of carpets on the _Enterprise_ ," he said wryly.

"Betazoids have a lot in common with humans, even if some of them want to deny it. Passive aggression is a favorite language of the Houses. Particularly my second cousin's husband's sisters, who aren't really blood relatives at all but my mother was feeling generous that day when Tori asked if they could be included."

"How's the stomach?"

"Better." One of her hands went to her belly, and her cheek pressed against his shoulder. "I wish I could just leave for home."

"What's keeping us from going? Homn would come back for your mother."

She hummed softly. "You're right. I'll tell Mother we're going."

"She surely won't expect you to stay, and everyone knows you're pregnant now." Lwaxana had taken great joy in standing up to announce it at the start of the dinner. He'd been less annoyed by that than he'd expected. "It wouldn't be unusual after a long day such as this for you to need rest."

It was only barely warmer in the hall at the bottom of the ladder, and the artificial torchieres at regular intervals lit up again as they strolled along the tiled floor, the tapping of Deanna's heels echoing. Jean-Luc glanced at paintings as they passed them. There were so many ladies, and some of them even bore a reasonable resemblance to the one he'd married.

At a junction of hallways Deanna hesitated, apparently lost in thought, looking up at the ceiling. In this part of the House there were scenes painted on the vaulted ceilings, and the section above them depicted two groups of people standing in a great hall, probably the one downstairs. 

"Cygne?"

"I used to hate this place," she said distantly. "I could tell you story after story, about these people who have been dead for centuries. One of the onerous responsibilities of a Daughter of the House, any House, is to remember its history. It feels so far away now, being young, being forced to learn all of it. It feels more distant to me than Shweva and her almost-husband."

"Or your actual husband, who might be an almost-husband, standing here in the Fifth House? Legalities being what they are."

Her wan smile was encouraging. "You know what you are to me, Jean."

"Yes, your 'well endowed' husband," he said, smirking at it. One of her many cousins had commented during their introduction; he didn't remember which one, of course, as Lwaxana had introduced him to at least thirty people within a very short time, guaranteeing that none of them would recall names. He'd had to re-introduce himself at least four times when encountering someone later in the evening. All of them had been at the remembrance ceremony that morning, to witness his participation as the late-lamented Jal.

At least it elicited a giggle. "You impressed all my cousins, whether you were wearing clothes or not."

"You're sure about that?"

She rolled her eyes and gave him a sly look. "I'm sure that I'm impressed. Do you really care what they think?"

He sidled left and put his hand in the small of her back, leaning in, and she kissed his cheek. While they stood together caught up in each other, somewhere in the walls there was a creaking and settling, sounds that were typical of older buildings. Deanna turned her body and pressed in closer, until he felt her breath along his throat. She wore the perfume he'd gotten her in Paris, when they were on Earth. A massive painting on his left featured a tall imperious-looking woman, who appeared to be actively disapproving of them; he closed his eyes rather than continue to look at her.

After a time Deanna took a step back, and he looked at her face. She seemed less tense. "This is harder for you than you've been telling me."

"It's hard to be on Betazed. I don't remember being this sensitive to the emotions of others. I feel so overwhelmed sometimes. I didn't realize it was fatiguing me so much until now."

"Let's go, then."

She nodded, and when they started walking again, she seemed to move with less lethargy than before. It solidified for him that maybe the dancing tomorrow was a bad idea. They reached the spiral stair and started downward. Voices drifted up from below as they dropped from the top floor to the ground floor. They came down into the foyer, and as Deanna's foot landed on the mosaic in purple, black, white and gold, the conversations ebbed. There were four people standing there together, and Jean-Luc realized they were the leaders of four of the Houses -- Yora looked less imposing without the formal, traditional garb but she still looked angry, as she spun in place and stared across the foyer at them.

"Have you seen my mother?" Deanna asked, as if they weren't getting the evil eye from Yora.

"She is dancing with someone," one of the others said, without the ire of Yora.

Deanna headed for the door opposite the stairwell, where the banquet hall was. Jean-Luc ignored the looks and followed his wife. The one in blue, Third House if he remembered correctly, smiled and looked him over. He put an arm around Deanna and hurried her into the hall. As they entered, Plitty, one of the actual cousins rather than fifteen-times-removed-so-not-really-but-close-enough cousins, ambushed them. The sister of Mwala was a spinster and very friendly, without the passive-aggressive habits of Lwaxana.

"Jean-Luc! Would you like to dance?" Plitty touched his arm, falling into step next to him. The music was pleasant, a string quartet in the corner playing compositions from around the quadrant suitable for waltzing couples.

"Thank you, but Deanna isn't feeling so well, so I'm looking for Homn to take us back to the house," he said, relieved to have a polite way to refuse.

Plitty was immediately concerned, but Deanna stopped and reached for her hands. "It's all right, I'm just tired. The doctor warned me not to push too hard and it's been a very long day. Can you find Mother for me?"

That sent the short woman scurrying for the dancers, and she wove in among them and disappeared. Lwaxana wasn't long in returning, and was already exclaiming across the empty tables at her. "Oh my dear, are you certain you're well? I can have Homn call a doctor!"

"I really just need to sleep, thank you," Deanna said as her mother stopped in front of her.

Lwaxana gazed at Deanna with consternation. "Plitty said she left _that animal_ at the house. I should have her take it home!"

"Oh," Deanna blurted. "No, I'm sure he'll be fine, Mother. He won't bother you. I'll see you tomorrow morning. Please enjoy the rest of the party, I know you enjoy dancing, I'll be fine. Our doctor is just a comm call away since the _Enterprise_ is in orbit, don't worry."

Lwaxana seemed at least a little reassured, indulged her daughter anyway -- she gave Deanna a peck on the cheek, almost did the same to Jean-Luc but did a double take and settled for a nod before turning to pick up her skirt and hurry back toward the dance floor.

"Animal?" Jean-Luc asked as they turned to leave before anyone else could accost them.

"She means Deadeye Murphy."

He had no idea what she meant but decided not to question it, as they were once again moving through the foyer. One of the four ladies there was approaching them -- Diwa, he remembered. She wore a modern style of gown, in red. It was handy that the House ladies tended to color-code themselves. The dark-haired, dark-eyed mother of Redal looked very much like her daughter. She smiled at them as she came, and gestured at Jean-Luc.

"I understand Redal has been talking to you about the possibility of our House taking you in, Captain."

"Yes, she suggested that we should discuss it with you. But we're about to head back to the house -- Deanna isn't feeling well. Would it be possible to contact you sometime tomorrow? I assume you'll be at the event in the afternoon, we should be there as well as Deanna will be dancing, if she's up to it."

Diwa's smile didn't waver. "Of course we will be there. There is however little to discuss. We'd be happy to help you -- I'm going to draw up the appropriate paperwork in the morning, and you can come by the Fourth House at any time during your stay on Betazed to complete it. I assume you'll wish to also speak to Narviat and the others?"

"Yes, we've spoken to Redal about that as well," Deanna said warmly. "Thank you so much for being willing to help."

"It's not at all troublesome. I'll see you soon." Diwa also kissed Deanna on the cheek, patted Jean-Luc's arm in passing, and headed back into the hall.

Jean-Luc turned to find Yora and the other two staring at them. The minute they registered he was looking at them they started to move -- Yora strode toward them, the other two went around and past them without a word. Jean-Luc wanted to leave and feinted left, but stopped when Deanna didn't move to follow. He looked at her instead, waiting for a cue. House politics were entirely hers to handle -- he had heard enough from her that he knew he lacked the context to effectively address it.

"I'm going home to rest," Deanna said simply. "Was there something you wanted to say?" No friendly overtures, for this woman. It was unusual for Deanna to not be at all polite. 

"Timal said she wanted to leave the Second House," Yora exclaimed. She raised a finger at them. " _Your_ intransigence is causing the Houses difficulty -- this was not a problem until you lectured me in front of everyone!"

Deanna raised her head slightly, and said nothing.

Yora spent a few more seconds being indignant, but seemed to deflate. "You could have come to me to discuss your terms, instead of delivering them in the presence of all of them."

"I could have. But I recall you were very clear, that House matters should be known to all of us," Deanna said. "Has that changed?"

Yora's lips thinned, as she hesitated in responding. "Deanna. You could have come to me if you felt there were -- "

"You made your feelings about me very clear, years ago," Deanna exclaimed, letting ire color her words. "You have said nothing to me since that would have made me suspect you feel differently. Even now, you look at me with disdain. Why would I ever come to you for any reason?"

Yora's eyes widened, and her mouth opened in dismay.

"No, I am not invading your privacy. I'm an empath, not a strong telepath. You've never appreciated the difference. Most Betazoids have to pry to sense emotion or thought but I do not. So I have always known exactly how you feel about me."

"Well," Yora huffed. This was upsetting to her; she was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed.

"No need to worry. Obviously I keep most of what I sense to myself. Don't I?" Deanna started for the door again.

Jean-Luc followed his wife out of the building into the night. The front of the Fifth House was well lit, by large floodlights pointed up at the walls. Homn was waiting at the vehicle, conveniently parked closest to the entrance. "That was an interesting exchange," he commented as he helped her into the back seat. He stepped in and settled with her as the side of the car closed behind them with a gentle thunk of the latch.

"Yora is as honest and as scrupulous as Vash," Deanna said curtly, yanking her skirt straight on her thighs.

"Oh. That would explain part of your reaction to her. And she clearly insulted or injured you, at some point."

As the vehicle started to move quietly off down the road, she rested her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes. "Yora wanted my mother to leave me out of the Fifth House. She doesn't approve of mixed blood heirs. My performance in this festival when I was a teen disappointed her profoundly and at that time, I was very sensitive and very quick to overreact. She deserved my anger, but in the end it only confirmed in her mind that I was a poor choice."

"I see. So if she wishes to keep our little quarter-Betazoid children out, all she has to do is avoid our wedding?"

"No, that's the best part about a House-to-House wedding. It doesn't require the approval of all the Houses. We can have a ceremony at either House, Fourth or Fifth, and she can fuck off to Qo'nos -- there's not a thing she can do."

Jean-Luc paused in appreciation of the unfiltered, tired, angry Deanna Troi, and imagined for a moment what might have occurred, had they lingered in the foyer talking to Yora.

"What the hell are you so happy about?"

He laughed out loud. "I love you, Deanna."

She groaned and curled up next to him, edging close enough to put her cheek on his shoulder.

"I don't think I've seen this side of you."

"Well, let's stay on Betazed for a while, I'm sure I can dredge up all kinds of bitterness."

"And sarcasm. Such lovely sarcasm." He put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

"Thank you for not taking it personally." She seemed tired again. They rode in silence the rest of the way back to the house.

When they arrived, Homn opened the side of the vehicle and Jean-Luc got out first. Instead of turning to help Deanna out, he stared at the very large black creature seated in front of Lwaxana's front door, under the porch light.

"Murphy," Deanna exclaimed, climbing out without his assistance and hurrying forward.

At the sound of her voice, the creature yowled and fluidly loped forward two strides, and leaped up to drape itself on Deanna. Wrapping a large plate-sized paw over each of her shoulders, it purred loudly and licked her face. She laughed and gave it a shove. It dropped to all fours and began rubbing itself against her, nearly knocking her over, then threw itself on the ground and writhed on its back, batting at her legs with its paws.

"This is your _kitten_?"

At the sound of Jean-Luc's voice the great beast rolled to its feet and gazed at him with wide yellow eyes. It was eerily similar to a Terran black panther, with long pointed ears and a slightly-longer muzzle. Murphy prowled forward a few steps, muscle rippling under the black pelt, and Jean-Luc couldn't help the alarm rising as it stopped and gazed up at his face.

Murphy started to purr again, and rubbed his head against Jean-Luc's dangling hand, folding his ears back.

"It's such a relief that he likes you," Deanna said. "Let's go inside -- I'm exhausted."

The cat followed her into the house, and Jean-Luc followed them both. "Please tell me this creature doesn't expect to sleep in the bed with us!"

"Oh, no. _Nemoya_ are quite easy to train, he's been with Plitty since Mother made me give him up. He remembers me obviously, they never forget once they're bonded."

For a moment he thought she might ask to bring him aboard the ship -- but she'd never once asked, so that fear was easy to set aside. He walked down the hall, the lights coming up as they went, and saw that the cat's back was taller than she was at the hip.

"Does he come with a saddle?"

Deanna giggled, as she opened the bedroom door. "Nice try."


	10. Chapter 10

Unexpectedly, Deanna awakened early, and took stock. As tired as she'd been last night, she'd expected to sleep until midday. The early light was coming through the curtains, Jean-Luc snored softly to her right in the rumpled covers, and she could hear the muktoks chiming outside in the morning breeze. She'd left the window in the corner open so Murphy could come and go as he pleased. As she settled back in the warmth of the gloriously-velvety sheets and thought about touching her husband's back, knowing he would come awake in an instant, she heard the thump-thump of large paws landing on the wood panel flooring. Murphy must have come in the window. She sat up slightly again, and saw he stood at the foot of the bed with his chin in the covers, gazing at her.

Jean-Luc's breathing changed. He was waking as well, so she burrowed over to spoon with him. "Hello, sweet fish," she breathed in his ear.

"Hmm," he responded happily.

"MRrroww," said Murphy, with a little urgency.

That resulted in an abrupt shift of Jean-Luc's mood. Before he could verbalize the frustration, Deanna sat up a little so she could look at his face. "Want to go for a morning run?"

"Glad to hear you're feeling better. Are you sure you wouldn't rather save your energy for the dancing later?"

Deanna smiled down at the sleepy-eyed version of her husband, reaching over him and resettling in the sheets with him. "I think you might have a good point there. Especially if I can persuade you to -- "

"MROW!"

"Murphy, go around to the kitchen for your food," Deanna said firmly. 

The large cat growled, but bounded to the open window and went out. They heard him crash around in some brush outside, setting some muktoks to jangling discordantly, but then he was gone.

"Does he really understand what you say?"

"Perhaps not. _Nemoya_ aren't sentient but they're somewhat sensitive, not quite telepathic. Certainly they appear to understand more than any of the lesser species do. He knows he only gets fed in the kitchen."

Jean-Luc pulled her closer and rearranged the covers over her shoulders to keep her warm. Having the window open had led to a cooler ambient temperature. "So the worst Yora can do is keep us from a House wedding and now she can't do that, does that mean we won't have to deal with her any more? Something tells me it's not that simple."

"Mother has been tolerating her forever. Yora's husband is part of the government as well, Mother has to deal with him often. He's just as bad as she is. But it will be tolerable now that she has no real influence over our lives." She closed her eyes, content to lay in her husband's arms for a while. 

"I didn't have the impression that it was difficult on Betazed for hybrids. But I'm wondering if I should ask. Alexander seems to have had a great deal of difficulty within the Empire."

"Klingons aren't a forgiving species. Betazoids won't call me a mongrel, but there have been those who exhibit a certain... attitude."

"Similar to Yora's? Your mother has said before that you're 'only' an empath as well."

Deanna had known better than to assume he wasn't paying attention. "I've been told all my life that my skills were inferior. I've started to question that, among other things."

"Among other things?"

"You know how a major change can upset things. I've talked you through transitions before."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really. But you have been so persistent in offering it's hard to pass up the chance." She huffed, appreciating his support more each time he offered it. Even with close friends he would leave the person to decide or not what and when to share, but that too had changed with her. She knew he would take wedding vows seriously. It was still deeply touching each time he reminded her of it.

"I'm also wondering which major change is at play today." His hand found its way along her body and splayed across the swell in her abdomen that was the only outward sign of pregnancy.

"I have an unsettling suspicion that I've spent too many years being too indulgent of the opinions of others."

Concern was his immediate response. As was typical he gave the matter some thought before responding. "Of any specific others?"

"I've always been very patient with my mother. With others in general, that was part of being a counselor, but I should have made a decision about setting boundaries with specific people a long time ago."

"I appreciate your patience with me."

Deanna rolled and pushed herself up again to look at him. "You've never disrespected my boundaries. I wonder if you even know what they really are."

He settled back with a bemused wrinkle in his brow. "Is there a force field? Would I be thrown backward if I found your boundaries?"

She chuckled at his silliness. He knew exactly what she meant, of course. He'd been a client, the last time they'd discussed the nature of boundaries. "I remember some of those specific times that I failed to tell Mother I didn't want to go along with what Yora or one of the others wanted, and a few times that I failed to tell Will what I would rather do. He had some very strong opinions and never failed to assert them. I was so caught up in easing the pain or appeasing anger -- I hated being an empath. I hated that later, when I wasn't overwhelmed by the feelings of others, I could actually think again and recognized that I had sacrificed in ways that I didn't really want to, just to get through the situation. And now I hate that during my slow evolution away from that girl who wanted everyone to approve of her I was still compromising too much when Will was first officer and continually wavering on the matter of whether he wanted to be with me. I thought at the time -- each time -- that I was unbiased and ready to move forward, and that the next time we discussed our relationship it would be 'the' discussion and we would finally be together."

"There are now a number of things about Will that I do not understand at all."

Deanna fell back into the sheets, rolling on her back and resting her head on his bicep. He wasn't jealous or angry, and it reminded her of how much she appreciated his ability to avoid projecting forward or backward. She'd hesitated to talk to him in much detail about her thoughts about this aspect of her past but this was encouraging. "I know. I'm not sure he understands it either. And I wish that I could say that I understood why I remained so optimistic each time he seemed to revisit the idea of being with me, but I don't really. I'm frustrated with myself."

"You had an opportunity, to rekindle a relationship with your first love. Something I never had. But I can see why it would be tempting."

She remembered Jeniece. He'd spoken to her about seeing his first love again, after she and her husband had come aboard. Deanna stared at the large painting on the wall, yet another Troi with a husband who had sold himself into the Fifth House more than five centuries ago.

"Cygne?"

She'd drifted a little too long in deep thought. "I don't know if I can still be friends with Will."

That was finally concerning to him, as she expected it would be. "Because of your feelings, or his?"

"I want to be his friend. He says that he wants to be friends. He intended to be. His feelings don't appear to follow his stated intent. I understand that it takes time to work through and move past feelings -- perhaps more than anyone, since it was a common theme in counseling sessions. I'm not sure he's made much progress."

"I'm sorry to hear it." He sighed and kissed the side of her head, drawing her into his arms.

"Please don't avoid him on my account. But I don't intend to spend a lot of time with him in protracted conversation any more. I don't want to cause anyone discomfort but I think it's better if I avoid him as much as I can, at least until he's worked through it." Deanna wished she could stay where she was, but she could tell her mother was becoming more anxious as time passed. "We should get up. I can tell Mother is anticipating today's events. She'll come get us if we stay much longer."

It was more than enough motivation for him, and they moved through the shower and dressed. She would have to put on bells and veils later in the day, but put on a soft, warm burgundy dress with long sleeves, as her mother's house tended to be cold. Jean-Luc had come well prepared with the nondescript sort of clothing he chose while on leave planetside. He put on a black jacket today. She wished they could just go sightseeing; he wouldn't get any attention, if not for the association with House Betazoids. She wouldn't mind going out with him to show him Betazed, if it were

When they reached the dining room, the same one as yesterday, it was empty. Deanna followed her sense of the others in the house out to the arboretum. Nida was putting yet another bowl on the already-laden table, around which Mother, Alexander and Barin sat. "There they are," Mother exclaimed happily, waving as they approached. "Are you feeling better today, Little One?"

"I am. Good morning." Deanna glanced right, catching movement out of the tail of her eye, and saw that Murphy had joined them. The cat trotted up and bumped her with his head, purring loudly.

"Wow," Alexander said, standing up and pointing at Murphy. "What's that?"

"Murphy was my pet when I was a child -- he's been with my cousin Plitty since then. She brings him to visit me when I'm home. Come over and I'll introduce you."

The Klingon came around the table, and Barin came with him, intrigued. Jean-Luc went to their side of the table and sat down to eat. Finally, Deanna thought, he and her mother had something in common; neither one of them cared for pets.

Murphy still remembered the hand signals she'd taught him, and sat when she gestured for him to, but his head swiveled when Alexander came close. The purring stopped. Deanna moved her fingers to tell him these were friends, and his ears returned to a more relaxed angle. He leaned to sniff Alexander's offered hand, moved a paw, then stood and took two strides to rub his forehead along Alexander's thigh.

"He likes you. If you go running you should take him, he appreciates the exercise."

Barin, encouraged by the lack of hostility toward Alexander, moved to touch the cat's shoulder. Murphy swiveled his head to sniff the boy, then started to purr again as Barin massaged his ears.

Deanna went around them and sat next to her husband at the table, reaching for one of the large fruit pastries. Jean-Luc had already poured her some tea. "Good morning, Mother."

"Almost good afternoon," she said, amused. "Our guests last night were most impressed, dear. Yora was quite frustrated after you spoke with her last night."

"I meant what I said, Mother. I don't want to cause you any trouble, but you know how I feel."

Mother was already distracted from the conversation by Barin's interest in Murphy. The little boy was clinging to Murphy's neck. "Oh, I _do_ wish you'd never gotten that creature!"

Deanna held her tongue and ate breakfast, while she could. At any time her appetite could change, and for once the food tasted good.

"Mother, can I have a pet?" Barin exclaimed, running back to his chair on Mother's left.

"Oh -- " It put Mother in a quandary. She had never liked animals, but she loved Barin. The only reason she'd allowed Deanna to have one had been her usual indulgence of the people she loved; her own father had gotten it for his granddaughter.

"Plitty lives close enough that you can go visit Murphy any time you like," Deanna suggested. She glanced back just in time to see Murphy leap up and take Alexander down to the ground. She tensed, but Alexander laughed and wrestled with the _nemoya_ , holding Murphy's head and rolling with him. "It looks like he appreciates someone big enough to play with."

"I wouldn't mind if Alexander came to stay with us," Barin said. "We could take care of Murphy together."

Deanna exchanged a look with Jean-Luc. They both turned to watch Alexander getting to his feet. "I wish I had one, he's a lot more fun than a targ," he exclaimed, brushing himself off. Murphy tried to get him again, shoving with his paws, but Alexander pushed him away easily.

"Mother, do you have a need for another security officer?" Deanna asked, turning back to her breakfast.

"Why, Alexander, you didn't tell me you were looking for work," Lwaxana exclaimed. "You could find a job here on Betazed!"

Alexander patted Murphy's head, and the _nemoya_ went with him, trying to nudge Alexander's hand again. Deanna smiled at her old friend and her former client, getting along so well. "Murphy belongs here, but I'm sure he would love for you to stay and play with him," she said, reaching for a third pastry.

"You don't think I belong on a Klingon ship?" Alexander asked. He sat down and Murphy draped both forepaws over his lap, raising his head to lick Alexander's cheek.

"I have no opinion about that. But Murphy is quite particular about who he likes, and I know I can't expect him to leave Betazed. You should do what you feel you should. I think, though, there are places for you to be here if you would like -- if you are good with animals there would be jobs for someone who loves them."

Alexander watched Murphy's playful mock-mauling of his arm. "I've always liked animals. I wanted to get a targ, but you have to hunt for your own and I wasn't a good hunter."

"There were a lot of animals lost during the invasion," Lwaxana said, for once not smiling. "There are many pets who lost owners. The shelter facilities have too many animals to care for adequately."

"Mother and I have been trying to help the orphaned children find new homes," Barin announced. "We hired Tarel and Narviat to help us reconnect families."

"You have?" Jean-Luc blurted. "They didn't mention that when I spoke to them last month, while we were planning our stay."

"They should be at the event this afternoon, so I'm sure you'll have a chance to ask them about it if you want, dear," Lwaxana said.

Deanna _almost_ said that she approved of Mother's new attitude toward Jean-Luc. But that was a surefire way to tip her back into the excited hyperbolic version of herself, focusing on teasing him too much. "I should probably have Yuris help me put on bells soon. When do we have to leave?"

"Two hours -- we're supposed to meet Redal and her son," Barin said helpfully. "Mother, can we take Murphy with us?"

"OH, Barin," Lwaxana chided with a carefree laugh, "there's going to be far too many people -- we should leave him here at home! _Nemoya_ tend to sleep during the day, we wouldn't want to get him too worked up. He'll be here when we get home. Jean-Luc, will you also be dancing?"

That took him aback. "I wasn't aware that was expected?"

"No," Deanna said. "It's not required -- I can dance alone. But you can if you would like, since you've rehearsed with me."

Jean-Luc wasn't liking the idea of doing so, but he also wavered, which was puzzling. "We'll see. Are the other House ladies dancing as well?"

"Redal, myself and the other heiresses typically do the dancing. Mother and the rest will be in the audience. You can sit with her and Barin. And Alexander if he's coming?"

Alexander grinned, shoving Murphy off his lap one more time. "I want to see you dance!"

"It'll be your last chance for a long time, so you might as well. I'm going to get ready now, I think," Deanna said. She stood and turned to go inside, and Jean-Luc followed her without another word. She returned to the front of the house and paused in the foyer, before she reached the room where her mother's favorite tailor waited to help her. "Jean?"

"Do you _want_ me to dance with you?"

She smiled happily at her husband, doing his very best to be whatever she needed. "I want you to choose to dance or not as you please. This is truly not an obligation for you. No one else will have any judgment of you if you merely sit and smile while I dance."

"Thank you," he said with great relief.

But he followed her into the room, and sat down to watch Yuris lay out all the bells of all sizes on a table, and prepare the glue to fasten them to her skin.

He was such a _good_ husband. Really, he was doing so much more than she'd expected. It almost made her wish she had simply abdicated the Fifth House and all its responsibilities, so they could spend their precious leave together and not focused at all on archaic festival activities. But she unbuttoned her shirt and laid it aside, and took off her bra. Yuris, to his credit, didn't giggle when he glued the first cluster of tassels and bells to her right nipple. Jean-Luc might have snapped at him, as he sat there watching with some ire as the Bolian worked to attach things to her bare skin and chatted with her about the festival.


	11. Chapter 11

Jean-Luc thought that they weren't quite recovered from yesterday's ceremony, but Deanna was showing no fatigue as they followed Lwaxana and Barin into the dimly-lit tunnel. Around and behind them, people were walking and talking, quiet conversations echoing. The event for the day was being held in a large stadium that Deanna had said was mainly used for sporting events. They went up a well-lit staircase and emerged in a private box looking down on a grassy lawn. To the left, another private box -- there appeared to be a series of them, probably one for each House. All of them were at a height that afforded a good view of the great rectangle of green that would soon be a stage upon which six Betazoid ladies would be dancing. As he understood it, the dance was a set ritual that spouses could join but that they rarely if ever actually did. The women from the other five Houses danced every year without Deanna; Lwaxana had made much of not having to do it this year in her stead. 

"I should probably go meet the others," Deanna said, holding the warm wrap around her closely. It was on the cool side in the stadium; likely they were keeping it cooler in anticipation of the many people who would shortly be filling it. The second day of the festival was more popular with tourists and the general population than the first. "And I need to stretch. It's been a few days since I practiced." She turned a warm, fond smile on Jean-Luc, kissed his cheek, and went back down the stairs.

Barin turned from the railing, where he'd been peering down at the grass, and bounced back to his mother. "May I go see Mori and Penda? They're sitting over there," he said, pointing to his right at a section of the public seats to one side and slightly below their private box. People were moving into the rows of seats. 

"Of course, dear." Lwaxana smoothed out her skirts, plucking at them and settling with a serene smile as her son thundered down the steps behind them. She'd worn a less-ostentatious dress, purple of course but with less sparkle than She eyed Jean-Luc. "Do sit down, dear, you're hovering!"

He took the chair next to his mother-in-law -- fortunately all the chairs were spread out, with three to five feet between them. Over to the left there were more people entering the next private box -- one of them waved. He waved back, thinking that it appeared to be Redal. The woman was wrapped up as Deanna was, likely to silence all the bells. When he returned his attention to Lwaxana he found her gazing at him with a calculating expression that surprised him. He'd always known she had to be more intelligent than she'd let on, but this was unexpected.

"How do you feel about the solution Diwa and Redal propose?" It occurred to him that no one had asked her. Deanna hadn't appeared to be vetting her decisions about handling House business with her mother.

Lwaxana's moment of surprise was interrupted by Homn, arriving with a hamper containing provisions. He stopped on the top step, glanced at Jean-Luc then at his mistress, then crossed behind the single row of chairs and placed the hamper on the floor. He silently began removing items and placing them on the table around which the chairs were loosely arranged.

"I think Deanna is doing a wonderful job, advocating for herself," Lwaxana said with a wave of her hand. "She's certainly come into her own. I'm so happy that she's _finally_ married -- I thought she would never get around to it!"

That gave him pause. Reminded him of what Deanna had said, about her mother's lashing out at Will, for supposedly keeping Deanna from moving on. Rather than take a chance she would continue in a similar vein, he chose to attempt deflection. "It's not unusual to delay marriage, you know. If one has a career that requires ongoing travel and consumes the majority of one's time, it can delay such a relationship quite a lot." Speaking for himself, of course.

"Oh, Jean-Luc," she scoffed, laughing a little. "She has _always_ wanted children. And surely you can't have failed to notice that she wasn't living a life of celibacy as you did."

Jean-Luc turned away and held his breath, for the moment it took him to contain the angry response. Launching a defense against _that_ was a guaranteed failure. Over to the right, the stadium seating was steadily filling, from the ground level up. A hiss and a distant popping suggested that the sound system was being configured. 

"I'm sorry," Lwaxana said, sounding repentant. "I forget that you don't care to discuss such things."

Jean-Luc turned his head to glare at her, but let it go -- resigned himself to the reality of needing to sort out some sort of actual relationship with the woman he had spent years wishing he might avoid. "I am aware that I am not your ideal mate for your daughter. I apologize to you, for being unable to imagine what I would have to do to meet that expectation."

She laughed merrily, and reached for a bowl Homn had set at the edge of the table closest to her. Taking a few of the unidentified nut-like objects, she tossed them in her mouth. "The only thing I expect is her happiness. She's obviously very happy with you. Anything else is -- " She gestured with her fingers as if throwing something away. 

That was not the impression he had, but he again let it pass without comment. Homn gestured at the dishes he had put out, bowing, but Jean-Luc shook his head; he'd had his fill at breakfast, and it wasn't lunch time. 

Heavy footfalls on the stairs preceded Alexander's arrival. He'd stopped at a vendor on the way in to get a treat, and it was interesting to see a Klingon holding blue goop on a stick and clearly enjoying it. Whatever it was, like many a children's treat, it seemed able to stain the lips in the same color. "This reminds me of a jumja stick," he commented, going to take a seat on Lwaxana's left.

Jean-Luc, relieved that someone had arrived to distract Lwaxana, noticed more movement out of the tail of his eye. He saw that the other private boxes were now occupied. Music started to play softly over the stadium sound system. He remembered being young and attending concerts with his friends, going to large-scale events like fairs on Earth, and having what he had called at the time 'fun.' 

How he had changed. Now all he wanted was to be on the _Enterprise_ with Deanna.

The stadium continued to fill. Some sections had six or seven rows filled, now. There were people seated along either side of their private box but out of their line of sight. Lwaxana nibbled and looked around idly. "We have better attendance this year."

"Have there been many tourists, since the war?" He knew how Starfleet was progressing, post-war, but not much about tourism, which he thought might be an indicator of public opinion about safety within the Federation. 

"Not as much as before it," Lwaxana replied with an airy tone. "Ah, it's beginning."

From below and to the right, the six dancers marched out across the grass. Though they were quite a distance from them Jean-Luc could see a clear difference -- Deanna was muscular and fit, carried herself proudly and confidently. The others were clearly not so active and one seemed slightly overweight. All of them were naked, except for the bells glued on and tied on all over their bodies. The music stopped; the microphones Deanna had said were placed at intervals across the artificial lawn must have been turned on, as the jingling of the bells became audible, though thankfully not so loud as to be overwhelming.

The six of them arranged themselves in a circle, striking the pose -- right foot balanced on a toe, knee bent, as they stood on the left leg. Arms raised, one curled overhead, the other curving down and hand open and flat in front of the navel. They all looked upward, heads tilting back slowly, and froze in place.

Barin returned, his feet pattering up the steps, and he plopped in the chair at Jean-Luc's right, smiling at him before facing forward to watch.

Jean-Luc thought Deanna, who stood facing them, was looking at him. He stood and went to the rail, resting his hands on the cold metal. He thought she was smiling. And then he knew she was, as the bond asserted itself, and he could tell she was fully engaged in making this a triumph. She'd been reluctant, hesitant, and regretful by turns, over the months leading up to this visit as she practiced regularly as possible on the holodeck. Now, after being on Betazed and encountering the other House ladies, she was determined.

Her joy rose up in him, and he could tell peripherally that the other dancers were also there -- linked with her telepathically for the purpose of synchronizing the dance. He could tell, now, that she was the lead dancer. The one who would determine the movements, and the resulting song of the bells that would result, because she alone had dedicated the time to practice for hours in preparation.

She moved one hip, then the other, and they were all moving, the bells chiming slowly. The women moved inward, danced left, started to swivel and kick faster and faster.

Jean-Luc lost track of everyone else and watched, but more than watching he _felt_ the confidence in her movements. She spun on a toe, raised a foot -- and off into a frenetic whirling dance the six women went, their movements precisely as would never be possible with human dancers. They danced on and on; he lost track of time. She was _amazing_. Rising off the grass higher each leap, landing and spinning and laughing. She threw herself into the dance so fully and enthusiastically. Through the bond she took him with her, the exuberance she projected reminding him of being young and winning track competitions with the joy of movement that went along with it. He hadn't experienced that freedom in years; with age came the reality that eventually, the body became less resilient and strong, making the effort less enjoyable.

But she was stronger now than she'd ever been before. It wasn't true of her. Deanna let herself flow from pose to pose fluidly with more abandon, drawing on the energies of the others and on the bond, and let her joy sing through her into the dance. 

One by one, the other dancers fell away, unable to keep up with her. She was aware, so Jean-Luc was too, that she was beginning to tire. But she danced on for a time, as other Betazoids started to come out onto the field. The rest of the dancing was supposed to last for hours, hence the refreshments Homn had brought; the House ladies were only supposed to start it, and waves upon waves of other dancers would continue on until nightfall. Alipha was an honored historical figure on Betazed, and all the festivities were intended to keep her memory alive in each generation of Betazoids. She had, among other things, been a dancer. 

Deanna finally spun to a halt, folding forward, dropping to one knee as her bells stilled and her head bowed. Rather than applaud by clapping, the way Betazoids expressed appreciation on such occasions was to share their feelings about a performance telepathically. So the unified and overwhelming consequence was a wave of approval and happiness, and awe -- it felt nearly as tangible as it would have been to fall in the ocean. When it all fell away again, Jean-Luc opened his eyes, returning once more to just himself, with some moderate awareness of Deanna, who now walked toward him -- to leave the stadium, as she disappeared below, and moments later was coming up the stairs bringing her wrap with her.

"You were _great!"_ Barin shouted, running to throw his arms around her waist. She laughed with him, and smiled at Alexander and her mother. As she turned to Jean-Luc, she collected the beige wrap in her arms, folding it again over her left hand; her skin was damp, her face flushed still, and her smile changed as their eyes met and the bond reasserted itself. But she was no longer caught up in the rest of the Betazoids present. Her joy and love were all for him.

"Well done," he said, his hand coming up automatically to meet hers when she held it out. "You should have something to drink."

She chuckled, refraining from comment on his new habit of reminding her of her health; being involved in her pregnancy so intimately not only led to more awareness of her needs but an almost hypervigilant ongoing concern for them. "I hope there's ebi'lan?"

They settled in chairs and Barin went to pour some before Homn even responded. Lwaxana was beaming in pride. "I don't think there's been a more impressive dance at this festival since I was sixteen and participating for the first time," she announced, somehow managing to make it about her while complimenting her daughter. 

"Thank you, Mother," Deanna said, taking the glass from Barin. "Thank you, Barin."

"Sit down dear, and watch the dancing," Lwaxana said with a flutter of her fingers to herd her son back to his chair. He sat next to Alexander and winked at them.

Jean-Luc settled in for the duration -- no way of telling how long they would have to be there, now. He'd resigned himself to enduring the day with the hope that the rest of their leave would be their own. 

_I agree. I want to spend time far from people tomorrow. I have a headache._

She obviously had stayed quite connected to him; it was the only way they could speak mind to mind. Jean-Luc watched her lean forward and drape the wrap over her shoulders. She was cooling down, no doubt. He thought about going to get her something for the headache. But she turned her head to look at Homn, who reached into the hamper at his feet and passed something forward to Lwaxana, who passed it to Deanna. A hypospray. Deanna applied it to herself and passed it back. 

Telepathy was convenient, he had to admit. 

The dancers filling the floor of the stadium were moving together with less flash and flare than Deanna had; they appeared to be following prescribed steps instead of moving out of joy or any real feeling. That wasn't so interesting to him. He fell to thinking about the Fifth House, the wedding, whether a House-to-House wedding involved the tattoos she'd described, and then the more immediate concern of where they would go next -- if Deanna felt it would offend her mother if they found a hotel for the duration of their stay.

_Mother offered one of the other houses to us, actually. And yes, tattoos are still a part of the other ceremony. But they will be different ones._

_Are we stopping by tomorrow to see the Aimne?_ The brief contact with their Romulan friends at the ceremony the day before had resulted in an invitation. 

_We can. I'd like to._

He smiled, watching the dancers, wishing for earplugs. The bells were wearing on him, though this wave of dancers wore fewer of them. He thought about Deanna in motion, hoping Alexander had taken enough footage to play back on a holodeck later. It led to thinking about their recent adventures. About the Ballad of Deanna Troi sung in the original Klingon, and what this audience would have thought about a display of her prowess with a weapon.

Deanna moved her chair closer to his, wrapped herself more closely in the warm robe with more coverage to stifle the bells, and put a hand on his thigh. He covered it with his own and indulged in pride, sitting with the accomplished and beautiful woman he'd married. Lwaxana made a slight noise that sounded like approval that made him grit his teeth in response, but they turned their attention to the festival.

When, after half an hour, Deanna took a bathroom break, Jean-Luc got up mostly to move around and examined the options on the table, then availed himself of the feast. Lwaxana watched him place a variety of the options in a bowl. He glanced at her, and she seemed to take that as an invitation.

"Dear, I have to say you're being _so agreeable_ \-- I didn't expect you would have any interest whatsoever in the Fifth House," Lwaxana exclaimed, lounging with her legs crossed and gesturing broadly with her left hand. "Thank you for making it easier for Deanna to fulfill her obligations to the House."

There must have been something in Jean-Luc's face that tipped Alexander off -- the Klingon stood up. "Barin, want to come with me to get another treat?"

Barin did. So after the two of them thundered down the steps out of the box, Jean-Luc returned to his seat at Lwaxana's right, picked up some sort of little crunchy ball of unknown origin. He'd been eating carefully, asking the identity of the things he'd enjoyed and making mental notes. 

"You spoke to me more before you married my daughter," Lwaxana complained.

"What do you imagine I should do? Did you expect that I wouldn't want to better understand my wife's culture?" He refused to respond to her more recent accusation.

Lwaxana actually paused, rather than laugh or say something irreverent. "Deanna said that you had an interest in giving your children an opportunity to participate in the Fifth House. I expressed gratitude for that -- _why_ was that such a terrible thing that you became angry?"

He straightened defensively, but contained his response, rephrasing as he usually had to do when discussing anything with her. Turning to look at her directly, he found she was watching him with much less mirth than he'd expected. Being direct with her rarely worked. He tried not to let frustration seep into his tone. "I simply don't care to have ongoing commentary about me, or my family. You're welcome, I suppose, though my motivation for participating in the Fifth House is concern for my future children. I don't see a need otherwise."

"Well," Lwaxana said with a dramatic sigh and wave of the hand. "I hoped we could at least find a meeting of minds. But I see that I can't expect anything of the sort, and it's so _deeply_ disappointing."

He gazed at her in complete confusion. Of course, she went on.

"I wanted us to be a _family,_ and you simply can't bring yourself to see me as anything but an enemy!"

"Lwaxana," he blurted, forcing a smile. "It's -- "

"I don't know why you have to be so difficult!"

"Mother!"

Jean-Luc turned to look over his shoulder at Deanna, who'd come up the steps and stood at the top holding the wrap around herself tightly. They'd been so caught up they hadn't heard the muted jingle of all her bells. Lwaxana immediately reached for something on the table, rather than respond.

"Are you all right?" Deanna said, stepping up behind her chair and looking at both of them.

She probably knew he'd been angry, and he tried to smile apologetically up at her, as she put a hand on his shoulder. "We're fine. Just arguing semantics."

Lwaxana snorted and fanned herself with an empty plate. "Is it warm, or is it just me?"

Deanna sat down again. She'd put up her hair in a rough braid, which meant it was probably bothering her. From the way she was sitting her back was sore; since the incident at Galisi, she'd had difficulty staying seated for long periods, and no doubt the extended exertion of the dancing had not helped. Jean-Luc almost suggested taking her home but if he 'hovered' too much she would complain. He held out the bowl and let her have some of his snacks.

"I hoped you two would learn how to talk to each other. Are you teasing him again, Mother?"

"Deanna," Lwaxana scolded. "Of course not!"

"Why were you telling him he was difficult?" Deanna fixed her gaze on him.

"All I said was that I don't appreciate the ongoing commentary about me, or you. She accused me of treating her like an enemy," he said quietly. There were, after all, people seated in the stands on either side of the box.

"I can see my estimation of progress made was in error," Deanna said wearily. "I thought you were actually starting to get along."

"We were fine until she started an appraisal of my behavior," Jean-Luc said. "And then she decided I was angry -- frustrated would be a better word. Constant misattributions wear on my patience."

"Oh," Lwaxana scoffed, tossing a tidbit in her mouth.

Deanna's slight frown said she understood and disapproved. But she sighed and reached for the bowl again. She exchanged a glance with Jean-Luc and focused on the next wave of dancers -- the group on the grass was leaving, and being replaced by an influx of young, slender, athletic men who weren't wearing bells. Instead, they were twirling long poles with lights on the end. It reminded Jean-Luc of Polynesian dancers, without the grass skirts.

Just another day with Lwaxana Troi, he thought, resigning himself to simply doing the best he could to not argue with her.


	12. Chapter 12

They arrived at the house occupied by Tarel and Narviat in the late afternoon, after a good night's sleep and a leisurely breakfast followed by a visit to the Fourth House to complete paperwork with Diwa. Since Narviat and Tarel now lived in the rural town of Maremma where the Fourth House was located, it was easy enough to combine the two efforts. 

Tarel greeted them at the door and brought them through the house to the balcony at the back. The stately Romulan woman was growing her hair longer, and wore a stunning emerald-green dress -- not the older style Lwaxana wore but ankle-length and figure-flattering. 

The house itself was on a slope, and the view of grassy slopes speckled with purple, yellow and red flowers was superlative; one of the moons hung in the deep blue sky overhead, and the cool temperature was perfect for sitting outdoors with friends. Deanna was thankful she'd brought a warm coat as she knew she would need it later but draped it on the back of her chair for now, as she sat next to Jean-Luc at the round table across from their friends.

"You seem at home here," she commented, as Tarel returned with a tray of beverages. All Betazoid, Deanna noticed. "I'm so glad you're settling in."

Narviat chuckled; he wore a teal shirt with a loose drape and open collar, a Betazoid style. He was still barrel-chested and broad-shouldered, but had lost weight and gained a light tan. "After the culture shock wore off it was fairly easy to get along -- the people here are all wonderful to us. Is this generally the way it is in the Federation, on all the member worlds?"

Deanna kept smiling, but sensed Jean-Luc's hesitance. It was a thorny question. Their Romulan friends had asked it before, and perhaps they expected the answer might have changed. She responded, instead of waiting for Jean-Luc to do it. "It has been generally true, and remains somewhat true, but the war had its influence. Betazoids can sense your honesty, other species might have difficulty getting past all they have been told about the history of Romulus and the Federation. Though there have been other Romulans in the Federation, long enough to interbreed and become acculturated. Are you wishing to see more of the Federation?"

Tarel sat down next to her husband, a glass of ebi'lan in her hand. "I would like to see Earth. But we think it might be too soon."

"Have you had anyone from Starfleet contact you again?" Jean-Luc asked. Then he glanced around -- the suspicion he suddenly felt made Deanna wonder if he'd realized that there might be surveillance. It would certainly be easy for someone to plant devices while the Aimne were out of the house.

"We haven't. And I had difficulty believing that they wouldn't, for weeks, but it does seem that the admiral meant it when she said we would be left to ourselves." Narviat tapped on the arm of his chair, looking pensive as Deanna sensed he was.

"I'm also happy to hear you've enjoyed the work you're doing -- thank you for your updates over the months. I wonder if you have something you were intending to ask us?" she said. She'd intended to have pleasant conversation about how their lives were going on Betazed so far. However, there was clearly tension in both of them. Expectation, and hesitance. Something was wrong.

The gentle prod yielded results. Narviat looked up, a little alarmed, and shot a look at Tarel, who inclined her head at him as if to say it was his choice to respond. He smiled sheepishly -- the older Romulan still felt paternal at her, as if their old cover role of uncle and niece still existed. "I have been thinking about our son, and what you have said before about the chances of contacting him. But I fear that whatever diplomatic efforts are made it will be too late."

"What do you mean?" Jean-Luc said at once. "Is he ill?"

Narviat sighed, and his smile vanished. After a few moments he rallied. "I want to apologize, in advance. But I know that you understand why I have not told you -- you understand how it is, to be unsure even while we are given nothing but kindness that we might not be completely trusted, or that we can completely trust...." He paused, sitting back in his chair. "We would be killed, if anyone knew we were discussing this. And it's difficult to go against decades of loyal service to the Empire."

Jean-Luc nodded in appreciation of that, and waited, hands folded on the table in front of him, ignoring his glass. Deanna took a sip and hoped this would not become another complex mission. She really knew better, but she continued to hope....

Narviat pursed his lips and seemed to be bracing himself. "Toward the end of the Dominion War, scientists in the Empire were implementing tests of a new propulsion system that was intended to radically change the course of the war -- they were building a fleet and the new engine would have given our warbirds an advantage over all other vessels involved. The quantum singularity used in our engines had been re-engineered, to give the vessel five times the power of the old version. It was hoped that with vessels that could respond more quickly across great distances would turn the odds in our favor, and the subsequent increase of power to the weapons would improve our chances of victory in battle," Narviat said, then hesitated again. When he went on he spoke with great reluctance. "The drive worked in lab testing, at our remote facility on a barren moon. When they installed it in a warbird and ran the first test, it again worked without issue. The next test would have taken the ship across the Empire in less than an hour, had it succeeded. But something went wrong. We don't know what -- when the engine started it melted the housings and killed everyone on the deck. The bridge gave the order to go to warp, got the alarm from engineering that the engine wasn't shutting down and the failsafes were not effective, and the helm changed course for the sun, because an explosion would have killed everyone on Romulus."

At that point, Narviat was so upset he fell silent. He glanced about, unsettled, and Tarel leaned to put a hand on his arm, then turned to them and went on. Deanna could tell it was difficult for her as well.

"The assumption was that they did not intend to set a course for the sun. They ejected the log recorder, and it was recovered -- the last order given was to take the ship out of the system on a course for open space, far from any inhabited world. The officer at the helm had no reason to disobey. He must have panicked, or there were further malfunctions. Either way, the ship went into the sun. Over the following two years, scientists noticed a rapid increase in the fusion taking place in the core of the star. The singularity in the drive must have interacted with the core in such a way that it's accelerating combustion, and it's estimated that in twenty years, our world will no longer be able to support life due to the changes in our sun."

" _Twenty years_?" Jean-Luc blurted. Deanna thought she understood his dismay; normally stellar bodies took hundreds of thousands of years to run through the stages of their lifespan. And there were billions of people on Romulus and Remus. Even with a thousand ships working night and day, it would be impossible to move everyone in time.

"Are your scientists predicting they will be unable to reverse the effects?" Deanna asked.

"There is no way," Narviat exclaimed plaintively. "No way to undo it!" At this point he was crying. He rose to his feet and began to pace the deck, unable to sit still. "There is nowhere for them to go! And the Senate is _useless!_ They argue and belittle, and refuse to ask for help! And the longer we are here in this place, the less I am able to sleep. I hoped that Proconsul Kalad could sway them. But surely if they had asked the Federation you would know! And I have no way of contacting my son."

Tarel by now was also crying silently, staring down at the table. Deanna caught herself putting her hand on her abdomen and starting to cry a little herself.

"Have you spoken to Admiral Claiborne?" Jean-Luc said, with more urgency than completely necessary. But this was extremely upsetting news. Billions of innocent lives were now in danger.

And, Deanna wondered if this also reminded him of Kataan. The despair in Narviat was echoing strongly in Jean-Luc.

"I wanted to speak to you first," Narviat said. He collected himself, returning to his chair. Now that he had made his confession a resigned sort of depression had overtaken him. "How do you feel Claiborne will react?"

"A fair question," Jean-Luc said, then considered it more fully. "He would of course inform other admirals. But... I would guess that an overt appeal to the Romulan Senate would not end well. I wish that we could take the _Enterprise,_ to assess and possibly develop a way to slow down the star's rate of combustion."

Narviat was shocked -- he stared at them, both eyebrows raised. "You believe there is a way to stop it?"

"Perhaps not right away, but slowing it down to give us more time to find an answer might be possible. We have stellar physicists, who would appreciate the opportunity to try, I don't doubt. If you allow me I would like to discuss the matter further with Starfleet Command."

Tarel was sitting up again, her tears drying and her dark eyes wide. "You think there is a possibility they would offer help?"

"What would increase the chance of your people accepting the help? Because we would need to send Starfleet vessels to your system. What I've seen of Romulan technology has impressed me, but I wonder if the Federation may have superior sensor technology and more data on stellar phenomena."

Tarel gaped, turning to her husband who did the same. Narviat seemed speechless for a time. Deanna smiled at them. "Starfleet has helped Romulan vessels before. We rescued a crew from a warbird before the Dominion War. So we've had opportunities to interact with your technology before."

"Not to mention your own brief career in the Tal Shiar," Tarel added. They'd talked about her inadvertent period as an officer on Toreth's vessel, helping smuggle M'ret to safety. "I wonder if approaching the Senate is the wrong way. What if we were able to send word to the commanders of the fleet, directly, that Starfleet is willing to help? They might agree to stand down and suspend communication with their superiors, for the time it takes for a detailed analysis."

"You might have something, there. But ask Toreth. She knew most of them," Narviat said.

Deanna could sense the lessening of their sadness as they spoke. She turned to Jean-Luc. "I think there must be a way to speak to the underground. We could start encouraging them to leave Romulus. I would assume the general populace have yet to be warned?"

"There are rumors. But the Senate knows that maintaining control means keeping the majority uninformed." Narviat exhaled and once again tapped the arm of his chair. "Jean-Luc. You believe that the Federation will help?"

"I believe that we can find help, whether directly from the Federation or...." Jean-Luc finally turned to Deanna.

"Twenty years, to evacuate people or stop the process." Deanna contemplated all the people they had met over the years, all the situations they had been in. 

Jean-Luc snapped his fingers, settling back and crossing his legs. "The Kaelon."

"Yes," Deanna said, surprised and in full agreement. "They were looking for the same solution for their own sun! But -- the quantum singularity wasn't a natural process," she added.

"But still, they may have developed sufficient technology that may be adapted to the task." He turned to Narviat. "The Kaelon were developing methods to restore their sun, that the _Enterprise_ assisted them in by finding a star in a similar phase to test it on. We likely still have the data they gave us then, and we can certainly reach out to the Kaelon again for updates -- they aren't Federation members, are xenophobic generally, but they may be willing to help another species in need of the same assistance."

"I wonder if the Vissians could help," Deanna said, thinking now about other species she'd heard about with more advanced, specific technologies that may apply to the situation. "They have been studying stellar phenomena longer than many other species. Vissian scientists have greatly informed Starfleet's astrometrics and stellar cartography divisions. They developed vessels that can enter a star's corona long before they joined the Federation."

"I have never heard of the Vissians," Narviat blurted. He was shaking his head now, stunned and trying to process what they were saying. "I don't know what to say -- you talk as though it would be no trouble at all, to address this, you talk as if you are able to simply ask and it will be done!"

"Well, I don't know if the Vissians or the Kaelon will help," Jean-Luc replied. "But I believe they aren't the only ones who could help, and there are channels through which to find such help -- the first step I think is to assess, and that's easily done with the _Enterprise_. We may be able to do that sooner than you think. Because survival is certainly foremost in the minds of your government, and even if they don't trust me, or Starfleet, how would they refuse more information than they currently have? How would they refuse help, especially if they could have their own fleet monitoring our movements in their system? I don't want hostility, and neither does Starfleet. And I can't say there will not be those with misgivings, there will be plenty of suspicion, but bringing back sensor logs will validate the reality of the situation."

Deanna listened to her captain talk -- and it was Captain Picard, energized by a problem he was seeing potential answers to -- this didn't feel insurmountable to him, because there were possibilities. It wasn't the ongoing nebulous threat of those distant, unknown Beta Quadrant species. It wasn't the insurmountable odds of holding the line against wave after wave of Jem'Hadar. It was a scientific solution they needed, and then a gathering of the resources, and some diplomacy. All things he had always done, and excelled at doing.

Narviat and Tarel were staring at them as if they'd just asked for an opinion and been handed an entire starship.

"I suppose this means our vacation is over," Deanna said with a fond smile. She couldn't even feel resentment. It was a cause worth pursuing, and she knew that he would.

But Jean-Luc's reaction startled her. Even after this shocking and dire news, he paused. She waited for him to respond, and he gazed into her eyes, considering her words very seriously. She could sense the internal renegotiation in progress.

"It means," he said at last, calmly, "that I'm going to speak to an admiral and begin the process of finding a way to begin gathering resources and figuring out who in the Empire we're going to approach first. We'll go to El'Nar after that. And when we get back from leave, we'll have more direction. The admiral will need time to talk to others and decide how to respond."

"What will Starfleet do with the information?" Narviat exclaimed. "Are you certain they won't simply attack?"

Jean-Luc paused again, and considered. Exchanged a look with Deanna.

"What you said before about that clandestine group that sounds like the Tal Shiar," Tarel said softly. "What will they do?"

Deanna stood abruptly, startling the three of them. She glanced around at the house. It took her a moment to remember the sign language of the Tal Shiar, but she signaled to Narviat asking about the security of the home, and he understood at once.

"Old habits do not end -- I have my own surveillance in place. We have been the only ones here other than our Betazoid friends since we moved in," Narviat said.

"Good," Deanna said. She looked down the hill and cast her senses outward, scanning. The new Aimne home was out in the hills away from town and no one she sensed seemed to be anything other than what she would expect. "Keep it that way. Because I have a strong feeling that _those people_ will not appreciate our effort. Otherwise they would have told Command about your sun already and there would be some reaction to it. Jean-Luc spoke to an admiral just last week. They would speak to him about this situation if they knew."

"You could see how people on both sides of the Neutral Zone would feel that way, about the other side," Jean-Luc said to Narviat, gesturing back and forth with his finger over the imaginary barrier. "But there are too many lives at risk to let this go. There are admirals who would respond, in some manner."

"We were always told, in the Empire, that Starfleet puts forth a pretense of peace. That a Starfleet captain talks about exploration and diplomacy but they are always looking for an angle." Narviat leaned forward, his forearms on the table. He smiled at them now. "I had a strong feeling about you, when you were on Romulus. I thought that you were not like they said you would be."

"And if we can save the citizens of the Romulan Empire from their dying sun, that will prove it?" Jean-Luc replied with a smirk.

Narviat rewarded them with a deep booming laugh that said they had done well in reassuring him that all was not lost. Or at least that they would do their best to help. "As if Betazed did not? And I would hardly expect a wedding invitation, from people who have an agenda. You could have abandoned us the instant we were in Federation space. But the rest of the Federation... I cannot trust my own government, why would I assume that you completely trust yours, especially after you are not clear yourselves how the admirals will react."

"Is there anything else you could tell us -- suggestions of who to speak to first? M'Ret and his wife may also be helpful," Deanna said.

"They would be happy to do whatever they can," Tarel said. "Toreth as well."

"We need to find a way to communicate with people in the Empire," Jean-Luc said, now back into 'briefing mode' again. "Spock may be able to help."

"You should speak to the fleet admiral first," Deanna said. They were not so familiar with Claiborne; Deanna hadn't met him in person yet, though he was supposedly their immediate superior. Jean-Luc gazed at her, and as their eyes met, she finished the thought. _Do you think she would come to Betazed for this?_

"I agree," he said. "In fact -- is there a terminal in the house? I think I'd like to take the time to go to the _Enterprise_ and contact her, and beam down again. I'll have more information then."

"Yes. I'll show you," Tarel said at once.

Jean-Luc followed their hostess inside through the open door, and Deanna smiled at Narviat sympathetically. He looked tired now. " _Tetya_ , is this not at all surprising to you that he thinks he can do something to keep a star from dying?"

She laughed at that, beaming at the man. "I have been on the _Enterprise_ for years. We've done fantastic things. He can do this, if we can find the right people in Starfleet to help us make it happen. We'll do our best."

"From what I've seen, that's quite enough." Narviat finally picked up his beverage. "Thank you, Ael."

She reached for her own glass and drank ebi'lan as well, wondering if they would ever have a truly restful leave again. 

But if they could make this happen, it might help the Federation in the long term -- proving to the Romulans that they were not trying to destroy them might make them an ally at long last. And they needed one, considering what had been coming out of the Beta Quadrant; it would be in the Empire's best interests as well, dying sun or not.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record... I did not intentionally parallel the events in ST: Picard in any way. While I have paid some attention to Trek canon/Memory Alpha re: supernovas, Romulans, etc. - part of why I am rewriting the series has to do with subplots that did not get resolved in the previous versions because I wrote myself into a corner. The Romulans, the attempts to kidnap or harm Picard, the Section 31 arc, the post Dominion War pessimism were all there before -- but they needed to be handled differently for me to resolve them. 
> 
> Now that the Picard series is out... well. I see there are some similarities. But I don't see how that could be avoided.

Jean-Luc's momentum carried him all the way into his ready room, and after the door hissed shut behind him, he paused. Stared at the space he'd been given aboard this incarnation of the _Enterprise_ \-- the triangular room had started out as a spartan version of a bedroom, instead of a place Starfleet intended for genial interactions to happen. He'd had the bunk against the wall directly in front of the door replaced by a small sofa, which could be a place to nap easily enough, and brought in a second chair for a second guest, if he needed to have a couple of officers come in. The fish in the tall tank in the far corner near the viewport swam idly about the coral. It made the space feel more like his old ready room, and less like the soldier's bunkhouse that had become the new standard issue. 

He could not start a conversation with an admiral in a heightened state of anxiety, he knew; when it came to admirals and dealing with the bureaucracy, slow was fast. Taking a deep, intentional breath, he slowly crossed the room. "Computer. Earl Grey, hot."

He retrieved the hot steaming tea from the replicator alcove, and went to the desk, glancing outside at Betazed's cloud-covered southern hemisphere -- he could with a word bring up exact tallies of all the damage done in the invasion. The _Enterprise_ had responded to distress calls across the Federation, during the war. He had seen what the Dominion had done in the Alpha Quadrant. He understood how some of the warhawks among the flag ranks had gotten to where they were, almost paranoid and on the defense constantly. He wanted to think Starfleet would return to the business of continuing to prosper as a United Federation of Planets, helping the Alpha Quadrant recover then returning to exploration of the galaxy.

But he knew what _could_ happen now, if he did not tread carefully, as a result of the mindsets of the people he had to deal with about the situation at Romulus.

He took the time to sip tea, and consider. If he contacted Claiborne he had no certainty at all of predicting what the outcome would be. He'd never met Edwin Claiborne before, only conversed via subspace since he was assigned to the 12th Fleet just a short six weeks ago. Deanna's concerns were quite valid, however, so discussing it with Nechayev made more sense. She knew them, and she had been only recently promoted from fleet admiral to chief of staff. 

And then there was Section 31. What if they had something to do with this situation? He wouldn't put it past some agent under deep cover to sabotage that test flight and intentionally send it into the sun, if only to sabotage the Romulans in efforts to upgrade their ships. He didn't know if Claiborne might even be one of them. He needed more information.

"Computer, open a secure channel -- I want to speak to the captain of the _Venture_ ," he said. The monitor on the desk sprang to life, displayed the Starfleet insignia for a moment, and then announced the connection had been made and the captain would respond momentarily. And then the image of Tom, sitting in another ready room very similar to Jean-Luc's, appeared. The other captain smiled at him as if getting the call was the best thing that happened to him all day.

"Good morning," he exclaimed. "To what do I owe this welcome interruption of too many tedious reports?"

Starfleet time was in fact late morning; the time zone he'd been in on Betazed was early afternoon. Jean-Luc managed an automatic, perfunctory smile in response. "I have a question about Romulus. Is the room clear?"

Tom didn't even flinch. "Yep, I'm locked in -- it's a secure channel. I thought you were on Betazed?"

"Narviat is also on Betazed. He's quite settled in, too, and so he has reached the point that he trusts that the Federation really does not intend to interrogate or use him in any way. And so he finally informed us of something today, that shocked me. Did you know that the Romulan sun is dying, and that the Romulans estimate it will no longer support life in two decades?"

Tom froze -- Jean-Luc realized he hadn't seen the man truly surprised before, as the blue eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open slightly. Tom leaned back, taking it in, then closed his mouth. "I did not. How do _you_ know this?"

"Narviat was Tal-Shiar, remember? They are concerned for their adult son, and of course every other Romulan citizen. I had a suspicion that it might be something that your _former_ associates may have engineered. Some sort of test of new technology, that sent the warbird they were using to test it into their sun, back in the final months of the war." He deliberately gave a vague description to see what Tom's reaction might be, and waited, picking up his tea.

"If anyone had a way of doing that, I never knew -- all I know is what I'm told to do. And no one's told anything since I went off script. The thing about the Romulans, they always have some new thing they're working on. Mind sifters, wacky things to make their enemies suffer or give up the latest intel on how to get Ferengi to accept coupons." Tom paused, probably sorting through guesses at what was going on. "You believed him?"

"If he were lying Deanna would have challenged him. And what could he possibly accomplish by fabricating such a thing?"

"Getting you to fly the flagship of the fleet into Romulan space? Or just any starship. The next step is to go have a look with our sensors, which are actually superior to theirs. They don't tend to care overmuch about stellar physics, whereas Starfleet likes to look at pretty things and quantify them just to know. You want to rescue them?"

That was simply irritating. Jean-Luc knew Tom would see it in his face, however, and said, "What do you imagine the right thing to do in this situation might be?"

"Wellllll," Tom drawled, leaning back until his standard issue desk chair whined, "I don't have to work hard to know what you think should happen. The right thing is to save lives. The ethical thing, the Starfleet thing -- save them. Not sure how much resources Starfleet _can_ send, or if it will make a difference given the billions they'd have to evacuate. I mean, a two-pronged thing should be the default -- try to figure out how to reverse the damage, _and_ evacuate as many as possible. Maybe the first step will be investigation, and then an assessment of resources to see what we can send without compromising Federation safety?"

"Are you willing to go with me, in the event an investigation is called for?"

"If the admirals approve -- you know how it is. I'm out here in Sector 441 starting to look for bogies. Arguably less of a crisis and probably can wait for us to get back to it, since there aren't any major Federation colonies or populated worlds to protect."

"Good, thank you." Jean-Luc paused, drinking that last ounce of tea. "Do you happen to know Claiborne, the new fleet admiral supervising the 12th fleet?" Tom's vessel was part of that fleet along with the _Enterprise_ , which was made up of vessels intended to patrol and defend the Alpha Quadrant rather than being specifically assigned to a sector; most of their missions were surveys, patrols and anything that smaller or less versatile vessels were less able to address. 

"I had a look at him. He was an underling at Command during the war -- working in security as I understand it. They liked him for the 12th fleet because he was active in the Cardassian War -- excuse me... he was involved in _resolving the conflict along the DMZ_ ," Tom said sarcastically. "Nechayev knows him. She has her favorites. I don't think he's a complicated sort of guy, my hunch is he's about as straight-laced as they come." Which meant Tom understood what he was really asking, and didn't think Claiborne had real ties to Section 31. 

"Thank you. I'll be in touch. Picard, out."

Recycling the empty cup, Jean-Luc paced around a little and collected his thoughts. He decided to contact Nechayev anyway. She was a known quantity, and as chief of staff she would be the one to approach the Federation Council, who would certainly be informed before any decision was made in the matter. Best to not dilute the message any more than necessary, and she would likely contact him directly as a result of contacting Claiborne anyway.

"Computer, open a secure channel to Starfleet Command, Admiral Nechayev, priority one."

_Authorization required._

"Authorization pi-two-four-delta, Picard, five-five-two."

He stood behind his chair, watched the logo on the monitor flicker to a status readout, and then the admiral's voice said, "Captain. What is your status?"

"I have learned that the Romulan people are in grave danger."

A pause, as she parsed that assertion. "Activate the holographic projector, if you would, Captain."

He moved to the right end of his desk, tapped the panel, and the frame came to life, linking to the active subspace channel. When he stepped into the frame, his perspective changed. Now he stood in a room he had only seen occasionally on a newsfeed -- a round room with a vaulted ceiling and a tapestry displaying the UFP insignia on one wall, clearly one of the chambers of the Federation Council. At a long table sat twenty people in civilian formalwear -- all of them were looking at him. The Security Council -- he recognized the chair, T'Norr of Vulcan, at the head of the table. Standing forward of the group and closer to him was Admiral Nechayev. He'd managed to interrupt a meeting. 

"My apologies for the interruption," he said at once. His tension must have been high enough to register with Deanna, where she remained on the planet; her presence made itself known more strongly than before. "I felt I should inform the admiral immediately. Time is of the essence."

T'Norr rose from her seat and came to stand with the admiral; she wore dark green robes and her stern expression was somewhat intimidating. She had chiseled cheekbones and a long pointed chin. "Proceed," she ordered, without apparent emotion. 

"I met with Narviat t'Aimne today. In the course of conversation he revealed to me that in the final months of the Dominion War, a test of a new warbird engine went awry, and following the vessel plunging into the Romulan sun, it was observed that the rate of combustion increased -- it is currently estimated that in twenty years, the sun will no longer support life on Romulus."

It put the assembled individuals into a state of shock; even T'Norr's eyes widened slightly. It was definitely a surprise, though it occurred to Jean-Luc that it might be surprising to some for other reasons. If Section 31 had anything to do with it -- and there had to be at least one person in the room somehow involved or at least aware of the Section's activities -- it could easily be surprise that someone had discovered this, rather than surprise about the event itself. He waited a beat, and pressed on, taking the opportunity to nudge their thinking in the direction he hoped to go.

"I know that this report from an expatriated citizen of Romulus cannot be considered evidence that it's true. I propose therefore that an attempt be made to verify it. Because billions of lives are at risk, and the fall of the Empire only opens the boundaries of the Federation to more incursions. The Empire as it stands is a buffer zone between the Alpha Quadrant and the Beta Quadrant. We are already spread thin, and more species from the Beta Quadrant are appearing in Klingon space and along our other borders -- if the Romulans fall, it opens such a broad gap along our border that our current fleet would be unable to patrol effectively. And, if we can offer assistance, it may turn the tide with the Romulans and a lasting treaty may finally become possible."

"A treaty," exclaimed one of those still seated -- the Andorian.

Jean-Luc ignored his disbelieving tone, and continued. "Spock has been on Romulus building a movement for reunification with Vulcan. When I was on Romulus, six months ago, the movement assisted us in the completion of our mission. The civilian population are not the government, and they are not the Tal Shiar. This could be the situation that finally topples the totalitarian government and turns the tide -- we could help them, and in doing so we could cement in the minds of the people that their own government has kept them ignorant of the rest of the quadrant. Instead of more decades of standoff, we could have allies on our border, assistance in fending off hostile species encroaching on the Alpha Quadrant."

T'Norr gave him a stiff nod. "Your logic is sound. Thank you for bringing this to our attention."

Nechayev took a step, drawing his attention. "Captain, do you have any other information regarding this matter?"

"Not at this time."

Nechayev's smile was unexpected. "Thank you, Captain Picard. I will contact you after the matter has been discussed with the Federation Council. This may take several days, however, if as you suggest Starfleet is to make an assessment of the situation, I anticipate that it will be the _Enterprise_ that will be assigned to the task. If that is the case you will be deployed at the conclusion of your leave on Betazed."

Jean-Luc nodded and continued to stand at attention, awaiting dismissal. While he waited he took a brief survey of faces; now that the shock was over, he could see indications that several of the council members were starting to mutter to each other, their expressions indicating some alarm and concern. Others appeared to be impressed.

"Captain, you have given us something else to consider in our ongoing discussion of our next course of action regarding the activity in the Beta Quadrant," T'Norr said. "I hope that your initial assessment is correct and the situation may resolve in our favor. You are dismissed."

He bowed, and stepped back out of the frame. Turning it off, he almost tapped his badge to contact Deanna. Then realized she didn't have hers with her, nor was he in uniform himself. He headed for the door, stopping only long enough on the bridge to issue a few orders about monitoring communications and get a status report.

The transporter put him back on the front lawn at Narviat's home. He went inside through the open front door -- clearly they were not so concerned for security on Betazed -- and out to the back deck, where Deanna and their hosts looked up at him expectantly.

"Nechayev was in a meeting with the Federation Security Council. I briefed them on the situation, recommended further investigation, and it sounds as though they will discuss it then call an emergency meeting of the Federation Council to review and decide." The entire Council met every six months, and had just met two months ago, so it would have to be an emergency meeting.

Narviat leaped up from his chair in surprise, knocking it backward slightly. He stopped gaping after a few seconds and grinned. Swore in Romulan briefly. "More and more, these surprises! Your Federation Council will have an _emergency meeting_ about how to save the Empire!"

"Not the Empire, but the people," Jean-Luc corrected. "The Empire _must_ change, as a result of this. How could it not?"

"I hope you are correct, my friend," Narviat said. "Because it desperately needs change."

Jean-Luc moved right, to sit next to his wife, who was eyeing him soberly; she'd monitored his emotions at least and could likely guess how the meeting had gone from how he'd felt, standing in the chambers with the Security Council. "We're still on vacation. She said we would be deployed after our leave, if that is the decision made to deploy vessels to assess the situation."

"Then we have time to help you decide what to name your child," Tarel exclaimed, shedding light on how Deanna had kept their friend occupied in his absence. They hadn't yet told them about Yves.

Jean-Luc forced a smile and tried not to think too much about what could yet go wrong, and let the conversation turn to lighter topics.


	14. Chapter 14

"What did the admiral say?" Deanna asked, as they rode toward her mother's home, away from the meeting with Narviat and Tarel.

Jean-Luc paused, glancing at the back of Homn's head. The barrier between the cab and the passenger compartment was soundproof, however. He must have decided that her question confirmed that. "Nothing more than what I told Narviat. It was impossible to speak freely with the Security Council looking on."

"Do you think it's true, about the sun?" she asked softly.

"I think it is. Narviat obviously believed there was nothing that could be done, and you would have sensed subterfuge. But you and I both understand why the Federation must proceed with caution."

Their vehicle abruptly left the ground at the end of the long driveway, startling both of them. Deanna looked out at the landscape falling below them, and watched as Homn guided it upward and leveled off. Something must have changed the plan; they'd taken roads to Maremma that morning, and now he was cutting the trip from more than two hours to just minutes. 

"Mother must have contacted him and issued new instructions," she said, turning back to her husband. "This isn't usual."

"I hope no one is hurt," Jean-Luc said.

They watched the windows as they descended, and as the car set down on the pavement in front of the house Deanna saw Alexander and Barin were standing in front of the door, Murphy seated with them. It was a curious little gathering. As the side of the car opened with a sigh of escaping air, the door opened and Lwaxana emerged. She wore a shimmering yellow and green dress that suggested she would be traveling. Deanna could sense the tension and the worry all too easily. 

Lwaxana watched Jean-Luc help Deanna out, her hands clasped at her chest. "I'm afraid I have to leave now," she announced quite seriously. Homn silently headed into the house.

"Is something wrong?" Jean-Luc asked, tensing, at the ready to spring into action.

"I'm off to Earth for a few days. There's a meeting I have to attend -- it's _so inconvenient_ and I was told it rarely happens, that the Council meets every six months. But evidently there's some emergency that we need to discuss."

Deanna gaped for a few seconds. "Mother -- are you saying you're part of the _Federation Council_?"

Lwaxana waved a hand dismissively. "Well, _someone_ has to do it if Betazed will continue to be part of the Federation. And there simply hasn't been the same level of enthusiasm for dealing with offworlders, so when the Betazoid government had their annual meeting last month it was obvious that it had to be either Yona or me, and you _know_ we couldn't possibly have _him_ representing us!"

"But I thought Yona was trying to run for a position on _our_ council," Deanna exclaimed, remembering Redal's commentary before, when they'd initially brought Narviat and the others to Betazed. 

"Oh, he was -- when he lost to Diwa in his district he immediately turned to interplanetary aspirations, started marketing himself as some sort of expert in other cultures," Lwaxana scoffed, making it plain she had no respect for him. "As if he's been _any_ where in the past decade! Whereas I have _years_ of experience on diplomatic missions and a much better understanding of the Federation in general, why, I've had husbands from three different worlds!" She turned her head as Homn emerged carrying two large bags. Her luggage for the trip. "I'm _so sorry_ that I have to leave, my dears," she crooned, holding out her arms and hurrying over to hug Barin, then Alexander.

"It's all right, Mother," Barin said. "I'll make sure I get my homework done and we'll be fine here. Alexander can help me with my math."

"RRRROWWWWW," Murphy commented, yawning broadly. 

Lwaxana glared just for a few seconds at the cat, and turned an apologetic smile on Deanna and Jean-Luc. She came to them, gave Jean-Luc a brief hand-clasp and a wilting smile, embraced Deanna firmly, and stepped into the car. "I have a ship waiting -- I'll see you next week, if you are still here when I return."

Homn, having put the luggage in and returned to the driver's seat, closed the doors of the vehicle and it lifted off straight up, swooped in a long turn heading south, and disappeared into the scattered clouds.

Jean-Luc stared up after it for a few seconds, and harrumphed. "Well. That was sudden."

"Who's Yona?" Alexander asked.

Barin looked up at his new friend. "Someone who thinks he knows how to run things better than anyone else," he replied, obviously parroting his mother. Murphy threw himself on the ground and reached to bat Barin with his paw. "Want to take Murphy for a run?"

"Sure. We'll be back by dinner time," Alexander said to Deanna and Jean-Luc. The two of them headed out across the pavement and Murphy leaped to his feet and loped in excited zigzags and circles around them, purring and making loud chuckling noises as he did when very happy.

Jean-Luc watched them go, looked around again, and put his hands on his hips. "Did that really just happen?"

"I know, I know," Deanna said with a sigh. "This is not the most unusual thing Mother has ever done."

"Did she just _leave her child_ here?" Jean-Luc gestured after Barin. "He's not even five years old!"

"But he is quite different from any human or Betazoid child, and I wonder if she hired Alexander to babysit for her. The employees will take care of the house and any guests left in it." She started for the front door. 

It felt strange, being there without Mother. When they came into the foyer Toma was moving from one wing of the house to the other with his small cart of aquarium supplies and fish food. The wizened old man glanced at her, smiled, and the words formed in her mind smoothly, carrying some warmth with them. _Good afternoon, Miss._

Deanna smiled at him, knowing he could tell she returned the greeting, though she wasn't able to project to him as well as she did her own Mother. Toma continued slowly on his way down toward Mother's suite. 

"Who was that?" Jean-Luc asked. 

"Toma, the fish tank cleaner. He was Mother's gardener for years, until it became too difficult for him."

He followed her into the arboretum. She reached the table at the center of the garden, sat down in the small forest filled with flowers, vines, and shrubbery from all over the Federation, and sighed, closing her eyes. The roses in the arboretum were blooming. Their fragrance was more detectable than the tiny white flowers from Shiralea in the planters around the table.

Jean-Luc pulled out a chair next to her and sat down with her, as she tried to settle herself. "Her employees take care of guests she leaves in her house," he echoed.

"Mother can be capricious. But, this is different -- I never expected her to join the Federation Council. I _knew_ she would find something to immerse herself in, when she said she was retiring from the Diplomatic Corps, but this?" Deanna covered her eyes with her hands. Would she have been offered the position herself, if she had stayed on Betazed? She couldn't stop thinking about her mother, on the Federation Council -- the governing body that ultimately controlled Starfleet. Her mother was technically outranking her now! 

"I wonder if the Federation Council will survive," Jean-Luc commented, wry amusement in his tone. 

"Oh, Jean...."

"I could blame myself for this. If I hadn't told Nechayev, there wouldn't be an emergency meeting of the Federation Council for her to go to."

Deanna opened her eyes, letting her hands drop. "Oh."

"Oh?"

She paused, and in the time it took her to put together words to describe how her thoughts were coming together on that topic, Nida arrived. "Would you like something to eat? It's nearly dinner time."

"Yes, please," Deanna said, turning with a smile. She'd already heard the menu from Mother so knew what they would be served, and approved.

The young woman nodded and turned to hurry off toward the kitchen. When she'd vanished in the foliage, Deanna turned back to Jean-Luc.

"The fact that Mother knows Narviat and Tarel, and will also be helping the Council decide what to do about the Romulan Empire could be seen as a positive," she said quietly. "She already knows quite a number of people on the Council personally. Jean-Luc... you realize technically she's now one of the people dictating the direction of Starfleet."

It stunned him, and while he recovered from that, a single tone sounded overhead; there was someone at the front door. Deanna went, and sensed as she passed through the hall and foyer to the door that it was a stranger. When the door slid aside she faced a man in dark blue coveralls holding a PADD. 

"I'm here to deliver the telescope," he announced with a smile.

Deanna took the PADD and glanced at it as she realized what that meant. The missing telescope at the Fifth House must have been put in for a repair of some kind. She hadn't asked Mother, but there it was on the invoice -- they'd removed it and realigned the lenses, cleaned the moving parts, and restored the finish on the telescope. The rest of the order listed out the steps to remount the telescope and work on the enclosure itself, renovating the tile and metal work. She pressed her thumb against the PADD to authorize the work and handed it back to him.

"How long will it take to reinstall it?"

"We'll get it mounted today. Another team will be up tomorrow to finish the tile and the enclosure. You aren't Mrs. Troi," he said, looking at the PADD. 

"No, I'm her daughter. But I know she will authorize it."

The man started to look her over, and his smile stopped being so polite and started to warm up. But then Jean-Luc caught up to her, and stood at her shoulder. "What's this?"

"They're returning the telescope to the Fifth House -- he brought the work order for approval," she said, gesturing beyond the man. A large vehicle sat on the pavement; the back was a frame in which a wrapped oblong object was suspended, presumably to protect it from jostling on the journey to their destination. "Thank you -- we'll come to inspect it once the work is completed."

The man took the hint and returned to the vehicle. Deanna touched the panel, and the door closed with a snap. "That explains where the telescope went. I wonder if it was damaged in the invasion?"

"With so many houses your mother must be constantly in motion, keeping them all maintained," he commented, as they went back toward the arboretum. "How many people does she employ?"

"I've lost count, to be honest. Do you want to stay here, or go to El'Nar? It would feel like we are abandoning Barin and Alexander, almost."

"Perhaps we should stay." He stopped walking at the door to the arboretum as the tone sounded through the house again. "Now what?"

Deanna returned to the front door and this time when it slid back, it was Mwala and her husband. "Deanna, Jean-Luc -- hello again," Mwala exclaimed, raising her arms for a hug. "I'm so sorry we missed your dancing yesterday! Tel had a shift at the hospital and I had a meeting."

"Alexander took some video footage, if you're interested," Jean-Luc said. "We're sitting in the arboretum and Nida is making dinner. Come join us."

"Where is Homn?" Tel asked, as they came in.

"Mother took him with her -- she went to Earth," Deanna said.

Mwala stopped walking, and then they were all standing in the foyer on the black and white tile, while she blinked in confusion. "Earth? She invited two hundred people to a _dinner party_ tomorrow night in honor of her first grandchild! Why would she go offworld?"

"I suspect the party has been canceled," Jean-Luc said. 

"I should have checked messages before we came, perhaps she sent something about leaving?" Mwala turned to her husband as if questioning him. 

Deanna forced a smile. This was not the first time her mother had left her to handle things after flitting off to do something else. Though being on the Federation Council was certainly much more important than being enchanted by a man she'd just met and absconding to one of her favorite pleasure planets, she had to admit. "I'll contact her and find out what should be done about the party. Would you care for something to drink?"

Jean-Luc watched her with his dubious expression that suggested he might be about to comment on her mother's capriciousness. But the front door opened again, Alexander, Barin and Murphy entered the house, and the gigantic _nemoya_ became the new focal point of the moment. Deanna managed to nudge everyone back toward the arboretum. The rest would have to sort itself out later.


	15. Chapter 15

"This is a _really nice_ house," Carlisle said. He'd contacted Jean-Luc and brought down a PADD full of messages, after the computer notified him that there was a priority communication from Command for the captain. 

Jean-Luc glanced at Lwaxana's home behind him. They were standing on the pavement in front of the house, and it was late morning. Deanna was in the process of canceling with guests for the party that Lwaxana had abandoned, so he had checked in with the ship. "Anything unusual going on?" he asked, getting Ward off the subject of Troi properties.

His second officer had something on his mind, from the pensive expression, perhaps wondering about why he had been instructed to monitor Romulan subspace channels. Ward shifted his weight to the other foot and the morning breeze ruffled his short blond hair. "I haven't noticed anything. Folks have been coming and going on leave, since we've been in orbit. We've been monitoring the channels you asked us to, and nothing coming or going. Everything going well for you here?"

"Yes, we've been enjoying our stay. Thanks, Ward. We have three days -- tomorrow, I'd like you to start a level one diagnostic. Have everything in order and the crew ready for an extended mission by the time everyone is aboard. We'll schedule a senior staff briefing when we return." Jean-Luc gestured at the comm badge on his gray shirt. "From this point if another priority subspace transmission comes in, forward it to me directly."

Ward nodded, his expression one of forbearance and weary awareness. "Aye, sir." He tapped his own badge. "One to beam up."

While the transporter took the second officer away, Jean-Luc returned to the home office of Lwaxana Troi, where Deanna and Mwala were seated before a broad desk covered with panels and featuring a desk-length screen. Their heads turned, and once again he was struck by how much they resembled one another. Mwala and her husband had spent the night at the house, as Mwala wanted to help Deanna with the task of disappointing too many people on Lwaxana's behalf.

"Everything all right on the ship?" Deanna asked him.

"Of course. I have a hundred or so messages to work through, so I thought I would get some tea and go out to the yard to sit and catch up until you're done with this."

"I have a few more people to contact personally. Most have been sent a short message, but I know Mother would want me to speak to family directly," Deanna said.

"Have you heard from her?"

Mwala nodded. "We spoke to her briefly before we started. She was about to go into the meeting. I wonder what sort of emergency it is? I hope it's not another war."

"And I hope that as well. But, as my favorite counselor has often said, no sense in borrowing tomorrow's stress for today," he said with a wan smile. "Come join me when you're done."

He went to the kitchen replicator for tea and emerged from the house via a side door in the arboretum, onto a broad patio clearly meant for gatherings. A round basin with a burner in the bottom surrounded by chairs and a few small tables invited socializing outside on a chilly day. Not that it was at all chilly -- at the moment the sunshine was warm and the mild occasional breeziness welcome. Murphy lay sprawled on the patio near the chairs, legs spread wide and eyes closed, basking in the sun. Jean-Luc sat down and put his tea on the nearest table. One of the _nemoya_ 's eyes opened. After a moment the cat rolled over, stretched languidly, and prowled up to put his chin on Jean-Luc's leg. The animal's head was heavy; Murphy gazed at him with half-closed drowsy-looking eyes, and purred loudly. Jean-Luc could feel the vibration of the cat's throat through his pant leg.

He started to pat the broad head, and it was a natural progression from there to tentatively stroking the velvety fur, then rubbing the base of an ear. Murphy's purr deepened and he sat down, his long tail sweeping to and fro in long slow arcs, his eyes closing as thumb and forefinger rubbed and rotated the ear. Jean-Luc worked on the other ear for a moment, then returned to brow-to-neck strokes of the cat's head, which seemed to please Murphy just as much. But then, suddenly, the purring stopped. Jean-Luc didn't know what to make of it. He withdrew his hand. 

The two yellow eyes opened wide and for a few seconds he was gazing into them, wondering, starting to become slightly anxious. 

The cat dropped his head, butted against Jean-Luc's thigh, then _shoved_ \-- much harder than anticipated. 

Jean-Luc found himself tipping backward, then rolling out of the chair. Before he could react, Murphy was on him, pushing down with his head, then purring again and mouthing Jean-Luc's arm. An altogether terrifying experience, initially, but the purring and the fact that the cat hadn't deployed his claws or pierced his sleeve or skin with the teeth led to hesitation rather than flailing and yelling. Murphy raised his head and stared down into Jean-Luc's face, huffing, his warm breath brushing against his cheeks and his long whiskers tickling Jean-Luc's chin. 

" _Murphy_!" came Deanna's stern shout. "Off!" She must have sensed his distress and come to the rescue.

The cat backed away, and Jean-Luc sat up, noticing that his PADD had been thrown clear, the table and tea rolled away to his right, and the back of his head started to hurt. Deanna helped him up. "I'm fine," he said, letting her stabilize him as he rose to his feet. "He surprised me, that's all."

Deanna's worried expression eased slightly. She touched the sleeve Murphy had had in his mouth. "You hit your head -- Tel is getting the med kit from the kitchen." She picked up his chair and gestured, and shoved Murphy's head away from her as he came and tried to rub against her. "Murphy, _enough_. You know better!"

The big cat plopped down where he stood and seemed to be hanging his head. Yowling, he rolled on his side and swiped a paw over his own head.

"I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, touching Jean-Luc's shoulder as he sat down as she seemed to expect him to do. Mwala and Tel arrived, and Mwala held the kit open for her husband. 

"No serious damage done -- it will probably leave a bruise," Tel announced after a quick scan. "Unless I use the regenerator." He picked it up from the kit, and did so.

"Plitty told us that he sometimes gets a little too affectionate," Mwala said. She went to the fallen table and righted it, then picked up the cup. 

Deanna was staring at the cat warily. "She asked me to find him a new home, as she's been feeling less confident in being able to take care of him. He needs more exercise, she says. I think she's starting to feel afraid of him. I think I see why." She took the PADD from Tel, after he went to get it out of the grass near the patio. "I'll ask Alexander to take him for a run."

"Does he know basic commands in Standard?" Jean-Luc asked. "If I had known he would push that hard I would have told him no."

"He knows 'no,' and several others including 'off' and 'sit.' But he knows better than to shove anyone like that!"

Mwala smiled sadly at Deanna. "You know... _nemoya_ have shorter life spans than we do. Perhaps he's simply getting older, and forgetting himself?"

That just led to sadness, and Deanna's unusual tearfulness about this made Jean-Luc worry. She blinked, caught herself, and gazed into his eyes. "I'll take him around the house -- Alexander went out front with Barin to play ball." She handed him the PADD, moved off toward the end of the house, and called the cat by name. Murphy sprang up to follow her, playfully bouncing and batting at her ankles gently as he went.

"You don't appear to like pets," Mwala said. She and Tel looked down at him, as she closed the med kit again.

"I've been largely indifferent to them. But Murphy is not the sort of animal we keep as pets on Earth."

"So I've been told. They're popular on Betazed, generally very good with children. Raised properly they are loyal and gentle. But there can be the occasional aberration, and I think that Lwaxana's rejection of him and his being forced into a different home had an impact. In retrospect I think Ian's choice would have been better. He wanted her to have a dog, which are apparently less likely to react badly to being adopted by a second home. _Nemoya_ bond with their owners in a more direct way than dogs do," Mwala replied, sidling over to the closest chair and sitting. Tel took the med kit and headed for the house. "Deanna's grandfather had a friend who raised _nemoya_ , though, and Deanna fell in love with one of his kittens. Or she likely would have had no pet at all."

"He was probably much smaller at the time."

"He rapidly grew to a size that a little girl could ride him, if he didn't lope too fast. They were inseparable. It was heart-wrenching to hear her cry when Lwaxana told her the cat had to go. But I understand why she forced the issue -- Murphy had Lwaxana in knots. Knocking things off tables and shelves, creeping up and jumping on her bed in the middle of the night.... She was afraid of him when he attained his full size. Deanna worked hard to train him and mostly succeeded, but it wasn't enough. Lwaxana personalized everything he did, as if he actually had an agenda." Mwala shook her head, her eyes unfocused as she wandered in memory. "Poor Deanna. And poor Lwaxana, it wasn't long after that Ian died. We had to take Deanna with us for a few weeks, for her sake. Such a difficult time. I let the cat come stay with us as well. It was a great consolation for a little girl who didn't understand her mother's overwhelming grief. Did you have a pet as a child?"

"I did not."

"It can help a child, particularly if parents are very busy, to have a companion like a pet. Deanna had a few school friends but so much of her childhood was spent surrounded by adults. Lwaxana was a doting mother, but at times I tried to talk her out of asking Deanna to make appearances at her parties. It felt sometimes as though she was only parading her to show off."

"When Lwaxana has been aboard the _Enterprise_ she's seemed very sympathetic and engaged with children. I'm surprised to hear that."

Mwala's sad smile turned fond. "She's changed quite a lot. Deanna's refusal to play along with her worldview challenged her to, and she isn't resistant to change when it makes sense to her. She does love children. That fellow Alexander, she told us about him long ago, meeting him on your ship -- sweet man."

If it had been any other Klingon, that statement would have made no sense. Jean-Luc smiled at the memory of the little boy who so earnestly tried to please his father, then pushed back when frustrated by high standards imposed on a small boy. At that point Jean-Luc hadn't spent a lot of time with Alexander, but they had talked here and there over the past week, and Alexander's stories about his childhood supported what little he had witnessed of Worf's relationship with his son, when they were together on the _Enterprise._

It was interesting, how many commonalities there were -- Alexander had not had his father for some of his formative years then experienced conflict with Worf, Barin had only brief encounters with his father, Jean-Luc had warred with his father, Deanna had lost hers early -- so much lost time and missed opportunities. So much sadness.

Jean-Luc looked toward the sound of a door, and saw that Deanna was returning; today, she wore a light green casual dress and let her hair fall freely across her shoulders. She came to them, her expression serious. "Alexander is taking him for a long run. I asked Barin to start talking to his friends, to see if one of their families would take Murphy."

"I'm so sorry," Mwala said warmly. She stood up, and the two women embraced one another. "I know you'll do your best for him."

"Thank you for helping me with the cancellations. I just made the last couple of calls and sent the last messages." Deanna stepped back from her cousin and turned to Jean-Luc. "How's your head?"

He knew she could sense the slight residual pain well enough, but as always, she met everyone on the level with which they were most comfortable. "Better. What's next on today's agenda?"

"Other than letting you listen to messages in peace, whatever we wish. Although I should probably go to the Fifth House later to inspect the reinstallation of the telescope." Deanna moved to the other chair next to Jean-Luc, and brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ears. "I asked Nida to prepare lunch. I'm starting to feel hungry."

"As am I." He held up the PADD. "I should get back to this. Thank you, for coming to my rescue. Though he obviously wasn't going to really hurt me."

Deanna smiled sadly again, touched his arm, and she and Mwala got up and went inside. Jean-Luc turned to the list of message headers, selecting the priority message at the top. He tapped it, the PADD recognized his fingerprint, and the voice of Nechayev started to speak.

_Captain. The Federation Council has begun to deliberate how to respond, but I expect from the discourse thus far that your recommendation to investigate further will be the agreed-upon outcome. Therefore you should begin to prepare for such a mission. I have made inquiries and you will be contacted shortly by individuals who will be able to assist._

There was a brief pause.

_Your mother-in-law has been surprisingly circumspect, and while she has commented on Narviat and the others, she hasn't been effusive or excessively detailed as I expected she might based on previous encounters. I had my reservations about Betazed's choice of Council member. I am now surprised and impressed. She requested that I inform you that she will be returning at the conclusion of the session, likely leaving for Betazed midday tomorrow._

The message ended. He scanned the other headers, and noticed one from Tom Glendenning; he opened it to find a list of Romulan warbirds and their commanding officers. Laughing, he took the PADD in the house, looking for Deanna to let her know her mother would be home tomorrow.

Unexpectedly, he found the others in the arboretum with more people. Mwala held a bundle that was clearly a baby, and a young woman with hip-length wavy black hair sat between Tel and Mwala; she appeared to be much younger than Deanna. Jean-Luc joined his wife on the other side of the table from their guests. Mwala's eyes were alight as she cradled the child and watched him sit down.

"This is our daughter, Alai," Tel said, putting a hand on the lovely woman's shoulder. "And her son, Min. They just arrived for lunch."

"Hello, Captain," the girl said. He couldn't see her as anything else; she was so bright-eyed and thin, exuding happiness and energy. 

"Good afternoon," Jean-Luc replied. He glanced at Deanna -- no way to politely pull her out of this and talk to her in depth about classified information now. But he could give her one piece of information. "Your mother should be back day after tomorrow. The meetings will likely conclude in the morning."

"Oh, good," Deanna said, quite relieved. "I still want to go to El'Nar at least for a day."

"Good for you. Because it's also a fair bet that Lwaxana will find we've upset her usual routine by making decisions here that she will have to 'correct,'" Mwala said, not without affection. "You don't have to be here while she does that."

"How old is your son?" Jean-Luc asked, because he didn't want to really delve into conjecture about what would happen when Lwaxana came home and found things done "incorrectly." Mwala's eyes went to the baby, and Alai beamed at her child.

"He's four months old. Would you like to hold him?"

Mwala brought the baby around the table and laid him in Jean-Luc's arms even though he didn't respond to the offer. The warm bundle wriggled in his arms. He must have weighed about fifteen pounds. Wide gray eyes gazed up at him from the pale blue blanket. Min coughed and swiped at his face with a pudgy little hand. He seemed a typical baby. Jean-Luc held him, curious, and after a few minutes handed him off to Deanna. As usual he had no significant reaction to the child; he wasn't nervous about babies any longer, but was not prone to sentimentality about them either.

"I saw a Klingon out on the road, on my way here," Alai said, picking up one of the glasses that sat on the table. "He was being chased by a _nemoya_."

Jean-Luc chuckled at it -- perhaps Starfleet needed to step up recruitment efforts on Betazed, if announcing ludicrous or shocking things so matter-of-factly was the status quo for them. "That was Alexander going for a run with Murphy," Deanna responded, rocking a little with the baby.

"I thought it was one of Lwaxana's new employees," Alai said. "She likes hiring offworlders."

Mwala took the baby back from Deanna, having hovered around behind them waiting. Clearly Grandma was not going to let anyone hold the baby for long while she was there. She walked around the round patio clucking and cooing at the infant.

"Min is your only child?" Jean-Luc asked.

Alai nodded. She glanced at her mother strolling by with Min, proud and quite content. "I probably won't have another. But I wanted to have him now. In a couple of years I'll sell the restaurant and move on to something else. I'm hoping he will be talking by then." Alai gazed at Deanna. "I was at the second day of the festival yesterday -- I was so impressed! I've never seen anyone dance so well at Alipha!"

Deanna blushed at that, and Jean-Luc watched her try to smile about it. "Thank you."

"I guess being in Starfleet really keeps you fit," Alai went on with enthusiasm. "I'd like to know how you keep in shape! Maybe I should follow a similar routine."

"There's a standard for fitness, in Starfleet. I'm also teaching a martial arts class. I started to practice the dancing a few months ago." Deanna shrugged uncomfortably. "I will be unable to keep up with the regimen at some point, however. Likely at six months."

Alai's carefully-shaped thin brows drew together. "Six months?"

"I'm sorry, I thought you knew I'm pregnant," Deanna said. One of her hands went to her stomach, as often happened now. 

Alai gaped -- she glanced back and forth from her to Jean-Luc, then grinned, showing perfect white teeth. "Mother," she chided, turning to look at Mwala. She turned back to them. "Maybe that's why you're so _esat mea!"_

Jean-Luc wasn't sure he'd heard that term correctly. But he hoped to learn what Alai was trying to say from context. Mwala brought the baby back to Alai, passing Min down into his mother's arms, and sat in her chair. "They are _hajira,_ Alai. You may not have seen it before. It's rare."

"Oh!" Alai was so shocked that it caused Jean-Luc some discomfort. But rather than pry into his personal life, the young woman turned to her mother and exclaimed, "But I thought that was just a _myth!_ Is it really something that happens?"

Mwala wasn't excited by any means; she seemed quite serious. It quickly became obvious why. "Lwaxana and Ian were _hajira_. We don't speak of it, when she is here. It's why she was so debilitated when he died, and she can't tolerate reminders of it. So yes, it is something that happens."

"Likely it's why Yora and Ciera have not been as challenging as we expected," Tel commented, surprising Jean-Luc.

"Mother was -- " Deanna was shocked. Actually gaping now, across the table at her cousins. "I can see how she didn't mention it -- she didn't tell me about Kestra until she nearly had a breakdown because she'd suppressed the memory of her so well. But why didn't _anyone else_ mention it to me? I've spoken to you and Plitty about my father before, and their relationship before I was born."

"I'm sorry," Mwala said softly. She glanced at the baby in her daughter's arms when it fussed quietly. "I did consider a conversation with you about it, at times. But I wanted to respect Lwaxana's privacy. Which now that I look back, I wonder if I should have informed you anyway. Your mother suffered due to her efforts to forget Kestra. I would like to think she learned from that, that she would seek help and start to talk about her past with someone, but I have seen no evidence that's true. And I think she will be more open now to your approaching her about it. Her narrative about you has changed since you were married."

"What would _hajira_ have to do with being taken seriously by Yora?" Jean-Luc asked.

Tel glanced over his shoulder. Nida was coming, pushing a cart loaded with food. Conversation was suspended for a while, as meals were provided and beverages replenished. The young woman smiled and took the cart away again, leaving a pitcher of _ebi'lan_ on the table. Tel picked up his fork and answered the question.

"There are a minority of House Betazoids who are firmly stuck in the past. Lwaxana was judged and found wanting when she married Ian. When it became obvious they were _hajira_ , it modified the opinions of some; there's a persistent idea that humans are deficient because they are not telepathic, and while that's not a telepathic sort of bond, it's an indicator that there's more to some humans than people like Yora want to believe."

"And so rather than directly address it in any meaningful way, they become less confrontational. That a human can function at all like a Betazoid to the point of bonding with one is enough to make them uncomfortable." Mwala smiled in amusement. "So rather than challenge their own prejudice any further, they set aside the arguments they would have made."

Alai wrinkled her nose and frowned. "Every time you talk about this sort of thing I'm thankful you didn't force me to be so involved in the Fifth House. I don't know why _anyone_ is trying to keep such archaic attitudes alive!"

"Perhaps to remind us not to repeat history," Tel said. He took another bite of his food. 

Jean-Luc studied the vegetables and bread on his plate, trying to remember what some of the components of the meal were, based on previous Betazoid meals. The meal was fragrant with the typical spices he'd come to recognize. It tasted good, proving that Nida was learning his preferences. Some of the things Lwaxana favored were so spicy he reacted to just the smell of it. 

"Is my mother the only example of _hajira_ that you've ever seen?" Deanna asked as she too started to eat.

Mwala chewed while thinking, and responded after swallowing. "I have seen one other. That was years ago. You two are impressive, I think you have a stronger bond than either Lwaxana or the other case I have seen."

Jean-Luc was drinking as she said it, and slowly put his glass down. "That's interesting."

Deanna pushed her chair away from the table abruptly. "Excuse me," she said in clipped tones, hurrying away from the table toward the front of the house.

Alai, who had been dividing her attention between taking bites of her lunch and checking the baby, who appeared to have fallen asleep, watched her go, frowning in confusion.

"I shouldn't have said that," Mwala said.

"Why would she be upset?" Alai asked.

"I'm going to check on her," Jean-Luc exclaimed, standing up. "It may be that the food upset her stomach. She's been experiencing some nausea now and then."

But he suspected, as he went to the foyer and then turned right down the hall toward their room, that she was very upset for other reasons.


	16. Chapter 16

Deanna paced around the bedroom, holding her face in her hands, trying to calm herself down. She became aware that Jean-Luc had followed her when she was finally able to raise her head -- the self-castigation and pain had effectively hijacked her empathy, so she hadn't sensed his arrival. He watched her with concern subtly written in his face, which likely meant he was very worried and not wanting to make a misstep in handling her clear state of distress.

"Mother was _so devastated_ by losing Daddy," she blurted, unable to contain it. She closed her eyes and sobbed twice, before she could collect herself and continue. "When she came aboard -- she saw _hajira_ , and all I could do was be angry at her!"

Jean-Luc's eyes widened slightly. "She didn't appear to be in great distress then -- distraught, but not to the point of overwhelmed or sobbing."

Deanna winced -- he was correct, but not quite understanding yet. It was enough, however, to make her re-think how she was about to explain it to him. "Jean."

He came forward a few steps, reaching, and she let him take her hands. "How do I help you?"

She heard warmth, but also the firm confidence of Captain Picard, in the words. It helped -- that steady and unwavering faith he had in being able to make everything come out well, at times it'd been the only thing that kept her moving forward. Sometimes in the middle of the Dominion War it had been what kept her coming back to the bridge, instead of going home to Betazed for good. Especially after the invasion of her homeworld. She hadn't said much to him or the other senior staff about the impact it had on her, to hear that her friends and family at home had been attacked. Partly because the intensity of her own emotions caught her so off guard, at the time. And also partly because they had been caught up in the series of missions they were on, one after the other -- she had been busier than ever before as a counselor, as one crew member after another came in to process loss after loss after devastating loss, while the Dominion War ground them all down from the 'brightest and best of the Federation' to people clinging to hope with one hand and fighting the darkness with the other.

That her mother, the endlessly-optimistic Lwaxana Troi, had quit diplomacy -- something she found to be so rewarding, so enjoyable, so much _fun_ to meet new species -- it said a lot about how everything had changed. Deanna hadn't expected her to accept a position on the Federation Council after her purported resignation from the Diplomatic Corps 'because everything was so different now.' She wondered if there weren't more sobering factors in play that her mother hadn't told her about.

"Or, is this something I can't help you with?" Jean-Luc said, when she spent too long wandering in thought.

"Be yourself. You being here helps me." Shaking her head in frustration that she couldn't stop crying, she moved toward and leaned against him, cheek to his shoulder. He embraced her tightly and waited for her to give him more clues. 

It would be difficult, she reflected after a few minutes of dwindling tears, to describe how comforting it was to be held by him. His love was most palpable when they were together this way. The bond could make them forget everything else for a time, bring them back to center and help them recover from whatever stress they were under at the moment. Deanna took a step backward as she remembered their guests were waiting, and tried to smile at him though she was positive that her makeup was thoroughly ruined and her eyelids puffy and red.

"All I ever wanted was for Mother to be my mother," she said wistfully. "I wanted her to love me and appreciate me for who I am. She does that, sometimes. But sometimes, it feels as though I am Sherlock Holmes, trying to understand what she's up to and why she's behaving that way, because she can't simply tell me what she wants. She seems to disagree with me for the sake of disagreeing sometimes. And she looked at us when she came aboard and saw _hajira_ , and she can't be happy for me? I can't talk to her about my father -- _no one_ can while she's home! It's _my_ history too. And hearing that Mwala and others are impacted by her in the same way is troubling as well."

"And now that hormones are in play this is bringing up these emotions again?"

She laughed at it, because the impulse to cry was too strong -- she had to do something. And she didn't want to keep crying. "I should wash my face."

"You want to talk to her openly about the past. But I have to wonder when Mwala last attempted it -- if she is operating under old assumptions, or if you are. She said something about your mother's narrative changing, after our wedding? I wonder what she meant by that."

Deanna took another deep breath and wondered that too, now that he mentioned it. The entire conversation with Mwala had set this off; her cousin's anxiety about openly discussing Lwaxana had been contagious, that was obvious now, and Jean-Luc was correct that she wasn't feeling quite right in general. The situation earlier with Murphy had shocked her, and set her on edge. So revisiting old woe was perhaps predictable.

"She also worries about my marriage to a Starfleet officer. And now that I know they were _hajira_ that makes sense -- she knows what it's like to lose someone she loves deeply in the line of duty, she doesn't want me to be in as much pain as she was."

"Well, so do I," he said, surprising her. "I can accept the risk. I'm not her, and neither are you."

Deanna took a moment -- to appreciate his confidence, and wonder if he might not have fully considered the ramifications of what had been said about her Mother. But it was his way. He didn't care to entertain 'pointless anxiety about the future that has not been written yet.' And it was too late for her to change much of anything anyway; her momentary panic over the possibility of losing him, or vice versa, did nothing to change the fact that they were married, bonded and in command of the _Enterprise_.

As she thought about the ship, she felt her shoulders squaring up, her head coming up, her posture shifting as if she were about to go to the bridge. And it was clear once more that she was doing as he had always done. Relying on her officer self to balance herself.

"We should go be with our guests," she said. "I'll be out after fixing my makeup."

"Do you want me to wait for you?"

"No -- I'll be along soon, please let them know it was just a little hormonal overwhelm," she said with an abashed smile and a gentle squeeze of his fingers. She watched him leave the room and hurried to the bathroom to wash her face and effect repairs. When she was done, she gazed at her face in the mirror. Her eyelids will still a little red and puffy, her cheeks still a bit pinkish, but it would have to do -- she wished she didn't look tired and stressed. Perhaps an afternoon nap before dinner was called for; she had the luxury of taking one, after all.

While on her way back to the arboretum to rejoin the others, she heard the front door and halted in the foyer, turning to see Alexander was bringing someone else into the house. 

Toreth. She wore a long-sleeved black shirt and black pants, form-fitting and neither Betazoid nor Romulan aesthetic was served here. Her hair had been trimmed short again, and other than wispy bangs across her forehead ridges she was the epitome of a Romulan commander, sans the gray overtunic that the Romulan officers wore. At her side stood Murphy. The _nemoya_ yowled at the sight of Deanna and bounced forward, purring and nudging his forehead against her hand.

"Did you give him a good run?" Deanna said, dropping to a knee and fondling the huge head of her childhood friend. "Good afternoon, Toreth. I see you've met my good friend Deadeye Murphy."

"Is _that_ his name? Your friend here said he was your pet?" 

"We ran for at least three miles before we turned back," Alexander said. He gestured down the other wing of the house, and turned to go. "I'm going to shower and change."

"All right," Deanna said, silently thankful that he'd stayed across the foyer and was moving farther away. Sweaty Klingons had a pungent odor that probably wouldn't suit her current pregnant state; her stomach tended to react with nausea to strong odors. She rose to her feet again and faced Toreth, while Murphy brushed his head against her legs and purred. "I was going to contact you after my cousins left today, to see if we could visit -- you've beat us to it. Welcome to my mother's house."

Toreth nodded. "I've been here before. Your mother has invited us for dinner on several occasions."

The moment of surprise was prolonged, as Murphy turned and went to Toreth, bumped his head against her hand, and the former warbird commander fondled his tufted ears, ran her fingers down his broad head, under his chin, and scratched his chin. Deanna chuckled at the cat's bliss. "Murphy likes you very much. That's unusual."

"He's a beautiful animal. Has he been aboard the _Enterprise_ with you?"

"Oh, no. That wouldn't be good for him, or for the ship. He's a childhood pet -- he's been staying with my cousin since my mother told me she didn't want him here at the house. Now Plitty is older and asking me to find a new place for him to live."

Toreth looked up from Murphy's head, startled. "I would have expected you would have no trouble finding a place for him -- he seems very affectionate, and your Klingon friend was playing with him in the front -- he was obviously not using all his strength."

" _Nemoya_ were once more popular than they are now. Resources are less plentiful these days. He's very demanding of one's time, as well," Deanna said, smiling sadly at her childhood playmate. Murphy reacted to her downturn of mood by coming back to her, standing up to throw his paws over her shoulders, and rubbing his cheek along hers. She patted his muscled shoulder and returned the gesture, then stepped backward, and he fell to all fours again, his long tail lashing. 

"MROWWWW," he announced tremulously.

"So I see," Toreth said, her tight smile showing her amusement. 

"Come join us," Deanna said, gesturing toward the arboretum. Murphy responded as if she were talking to him, loping down the hall before them.

The arboretum was programmed to provide whatever the plants needed, so the afternoon breeze cycle was starting as they walked through the trees to the center. Everyone watched them approach, as they sat around the table with drinks in hand; Alai had gone, taking the baby with her. Deanna wished for a moment that they would all go, as she was beginning to feel like the nap was simply impossible. She smiled and indicated the new guest. "Have you met Toreth?"

"Yes," Mwala exclaimed. "Please, join us. Good to see you again, Toreth."

"I was at the Festival yesterday," Toreth said as she walked around the table to occupy the chair between Tel and Jean-Luc. "I should have expected that you would be an excellent dancer, Deanna. I've seen your prowess in the martial arts. It shows in your dancing."

"Thank you," she replied, glancing at Jean-Luc. 

"I've also been informed that you are pregnant," Toreth said with a sly look. "Congratulations."

Murphy prowled up behind the Romulan and stood up on his hind legs to put a paw on her left shoulder. He applied his tongue to the side of her head -- the end result of the single swipe of the cat's broad tongue was an upswept fan of hair. She laughed and shoved at him, and he obligingly dropped back to the ground, then bumped against the side of her chair.

"Murphy!" Deanna scolded.

He grumbled and sauntered off to throw himself bodily into one of Mother's favorite shrubs, sighing dramatically and sprawling with a lash of his tail.

"I'm so sorry," Deanna said. "He's been more aggressively affectionate today than usual."

"He seems to obey you, however." Toreth ran a hand over her head to smooth her hair. 

Mwala and Tel were gazing at her speculatively. Tel raised an eyebrow and eyed Deanna, and she picked up his thought clearly. _He has an affinity for this one. More than he has for Alexander._

"How are you settling in here on Betazed?" Deanna asked Toreth.

"I took your advice. I've spent a lot of time thinking and researching, and talking to people," Toreth said. Deanna sensed her mood shifting, from the low ebb of mild anticipatory anxiety to the sort of tension she had often found in cadets. Toreth anticipated an unwanted response. She paused, possibly considering phrasing. "I would like to talk to you further on what kind of reception I might have, if I were to appeal to Starfleet Command regarding an accelerated path to becoming an officer."

"Ah," Jean-Luc blurted. "I can talk to the superintendent. Introduce you to her. That would be the first step."

"Are you finding life here is not to your liking?" Mwala asked, tilting her head. "You have done a wonderful job, helping organize the recovery effort in the Fourth Province."

"There is an appeal to the work," Toreth said. "I also find Betazoids to be exactly as represented. It has taken some months to feel that this was true. When I was removed from my post as commander of a Romulan war cruiser, I was angry at my former government -- it was the pinnacle of my hatred for them, for the Tal Shiar and for the many ways that their decisions got in the way. I spent my life serving my people. They do not want my service. If the Federation will accept me, then I will serve people who accept me."

"I think they would be foolish not to -- though I could see some admirals might have some questions about whether we could trust you not to take a starship back to Romulus." Deanna kept her tone light, though she was serious.

"Of course, a good first officer would keep that from happening," Jean-Luc said.

"Well -- as lovely as it's been to spend time with you, it sounds as though you have a lot to talk about," Tel said. "And I have a shift tonight, and it's a long trip home from here. I anticipate we'll see you again after Lwaxana returns, before you leave?"

"I'll call," Mwala said, rising from her chair with her husband.

"Thank you for coming," Deanna said, leaving the table to walk them out. She linked arms with Mwala as they walked.

 _I am sorry that I upset you, speaking of your parents,_ Mwala told her as they went.

_No need for apology. That wasn't really the cause. I'm having some regrets and hormonal mood swings._

Mwala patted her arm, and once in the foyer they separated. Deanna stood watching her cousin depart, sharing a few moments of fond and warm familial affection, and then the door closed behind them.

"Deanna," Barin said, emerging from the hallway on her left. "I called all my friends. I can't find anyone who wants to take Murphy."

She held out an arm, putting it across her younger brother's shoulders. "It's all right. I'm going to figure it out. He's my pet after all. How are you doing, with Mother gone?"

"I'm all right. Are you still with guests? Do you want to play a game?"

"We had a new guest show up -- you've met Toreth?"

Barin smiled at the mention of the Romulan. "Yes. Mother talks to her sometimes. She's here?"

"She's in the arboretum with Jean-Luc and Murphy. Come on."

When they reached the table, Murphy was sitting next to Toreth's chair receiving a head rub. Tel was correct; the cat was drawn to her. Deanna returned to her chair at Jean-Luc's side and smiled at the pair. "Would you like to take him for a while, at least? He seems to like you."

Toreth gazed at her open-mouthed for a few seconds. "You said that he doesn't belong on a ship."

"But there is a path that you will be on before you have one, and he's nearing the end of his life span," Deanna said. "It would reassure me to know he's spending his last years with someone he loves, if he can't be with me."

Toreth nodded and studied the purring creature who was pushing his head toward her. "I will need to know how to care for him. I assume there are documents that can help me understand this."

"That will be great, I can come see him," Barin exclaimed, grinning at the thought. "Mother doesn't want me to have pets. I wish he could stay with me."

Toreth's expression was surprisingly affectionate and gentle as she responded to the boy. "I may not be on Betazed forever. But you are welcome to visit whenever you wish."

Murphy made his way around the table, rubbing the length of his body against the back of Jean-Luc's chair on his way to put his chin on Deanna's shoulder. She tickled his whiskers and scratched his muzzle. "Would you like to go stay with Toreth?"

He made the grumbling sound in the back of his throat that suggested he was wanting something, dropped his head off her shoulder, and she felt the chair start to move.

"No," she said firmly.

"MAOW." Murphy stopped, and prowled off into the bushes behind the table. They heard muktoks chime, and then a distant splash suggested he'd gotten into Mother's fish pond.

"I'll get him," Barin cried, leaping up and racing after the _nemoya_.

"He needs a firm hand," Jean-Luc commented. "I think you're perfect for the job."

Toreth smiled in the lazy, confident way of many a starship captain. "We'll see."


	17. Chapter 17

Jean-Luc left Deanna napping and returned to the back of the house, where Toreth stood on the patio watching Barin throw a ball for Murphy. As he came to a halt beside her, she asked, "Is 'Deadeye Murphy' a name with some offworld origin? It doesn't appear to be Betazoid."

"Deanna's father was fond of a genre of fiction about a time period in which Terrans were living in a pre-warp culture and many of the characters in those stories had names like that. He clearly shared them with her."

Toreth turned her head to gaze at him with dark brown eyes. "Narviat said that he told you about the pending supernova."

At least she'd saved that for a moment of solitude, rather than mentioning it in front of Mwala and Tel, or Barin. "And the Federation Council is meeting about it as we speak. It's likely that the _Enterprise_ will be dispatched shortly to investigate what can be done. What are your thoughts on the matter?"

Toreth's wry expression said volumes by itself. "Then you believe it's true?"

"Are you suggesting that Narviat has been deceived? He believes it."

She laughed curtly, glanced at the house, and turned back to watch Murphy run toward the back wall -- he leaped, caught the top with his paws, and pulled himself up and over it. A few moments later he vaulted back over with the large red and blue ball in his mouth. Loping back to Barin, he dropped it on the ground, watched the boy grab and throw it, and chased it.

"If you have information I would appreciate your assistance," he went on. She faced him again with less amusement.

"Narviat has friends in the underground as well as in the Tal Shiar. But I have difficulty believing that his friends on either side would be so confiding in a retired agent," Toreth said. "And I would suspect any information the underground obtains. Or did this come to you in whatever your lovely wife stole from the Imperial Palace, when she infiltrated it?" There was no bitterness in her tone, no anger. Unlike the other Romulan expatriates she simply stated her thoughts without prevarication. 

"I have my misgivings and doubts. Which is why the first step would be to investigate."

"To what end? You're going to rescue the Romulan people from their mistakes? Are you going to bring all of them out of harm's way, or just the ones who score well on some test of whether or not they might make good Federation citizens?"

He sniffed -- the sarcasm was laced with bitterness. "The ones who want to leave. Whether or not they wish to be citizens of the Federation or the Empire is immaterial. Lives are in danger. They can be saved."

There was a pause. He watched Barin throw the ball toward the far end of the yard, and the _nemoya_ chased and leaped after it. When he looked at Toreth again, she was staring at him.

"I have had my doubts, despite all the evidence that you mean what you say. But now you say this, I find myself wavering in my doubts. You _actually mean it._ And this isn't some directive you follow?"

"I follow the principles of the Federation and the regulations of Starfleet to the best of my ability. And I do believe them, though I'm aware there have been those officers who are less committed to them. I'm aware of the long history of suspicion and avoidance, that the Romulan Senate has long been hostile to the Federation. If the Federation Council adheres to the same principles they claim to have, they will investigate and offer help if it's needed." He continued to have the same sort of conversation with Toreth -- such reassurances had already been made. 

"Or they will choose to keep the resources that would expend to help their member worlds recover from the Dominion War. That would be sane. Understandable."

"We don't need another war," Jean-Luc said firmly. "And you can't be unaware of the species coming out of the far reaches of the Beta Quadrant. It would be beneficial for both the Empire and the Federation to assist one another in defending those borders. We've had the same conversation with the Klingons."

"A most practical stance for you to take. There are those in the Senate who might agree." Toreth sidled to the right to catch the ball, which Barin had thrown, and threw it with apparent ease, though it flew farther and faster than he would have expected. Murphy changed directions and raced after it. Toreth returned and faced Jean-Luc, arms crossed. "What if it does not go well? What if you take the flagship of your fleet to its destruction instead of helping the Romulan people escape a supernova?"

"Better to die attempting to save lives than to abandon my principles," he said.

"Your pregnant wife agrees with this stance."

"My first officer does." 

Toreth snorted. She looked around, her gaze settling on the house. "This place is amazing. Your wife's family is wealthy."

"Mine was not destitute. But that is not important. Do you believe the Romulan sun is dying?"

She pursed her lips and watched Murphy loping along the back wall with the ball in his mouth being chased by Barin. The little boy raced along after the cat that was easily six times bigger than he was. "I know that it is. One of my former officers was in command of the warbird they used for the test. That engine was being developed before I was removed from my post, and it was supposed to change the Empire -- we would have the upper hand against the Klingons, we would gain dominance over the rest of the Alpha Quadrant. And then when the Dominion War happened, we were close enough to implementing it that the plan was to let the Dominion whittle away at the Klingon and Federation fleets then deal with them ourselves."

There was frustration in her words. He nodded, understanding her perspective. "The malfunction changed the plan. The Romulan Fleet had to work with us, instead of against us. Something I am ultimately thankful for, but I understand that it must have angered many."

"This agency, Section 31, that you have mentioned before... I wonder if they had something to do with the malfunction." 

"I've wondered the same. I have no way of confirming one way or the other, however. I also disapprove of such an action."

"Of course." 

They stood facing each other, each lost in thought for a moment. The commbadge in his shirt pocket chirped, disrupting the moment. He took it out, put it on his shoulder and tapped it. "Picard here."

"Sir, I have Admiral Nechayev, on a secure channel." 

He grimaced. "I have to return to the ship -- I'll be back shortly," he said to Toreth. "Mr. Carlisle, one to beam up."

He materialized in transporter room two, and was in motion as transport was complete. "Thank you, Mr. deVin." The L'norim transporter chief watched him go. 

Many of the crew were on leave, or coming back from it; Deanna had arranged the schedule such that at any given time, two thirds of the crew would be aboard. It would take at most two hours to recall those on leave in the event of an emergency, and if immediate response was needed they could deploy without a crew shortage and leave those on Betazed to be retrieved later. The bridge was staffed minimally, Carlisle at the conn. He smiled at Jean-Luc as he headed into the ready room.

The computer registered his retinal scan as he sat down, and the Starfleet insignia on the monitor was replaced by Nechayev, in a more familiar form factor than the holographic projection had been. She had the slight, polite but firm smile in place and wore it like the armor it had been throughout the Dominion War.

"The Federation Council has agreed, though not unanimously, that further investigation is warranted. Therefore you have been assigned to the task of determining the truth -- is the Romulan sun going nova, and if so, collect more information that will help us determine what if anything can be done. We have already invited the scientific community within the Federation to join you, and you should be contacted directly by some of them shortly. I am granting you broad discretion in the matter, and I expect you will remember that there are those who will be watching closely. Many of those in the intelligence department are extremely skeptical, Jean-Luc. Your mother-in-law was quite firm and direct in informing them that Betazed has found nothing to mistrust in your friends there, and managed to turn a few of the wavering votes in favor, I think."

He nodded, considered mentioning Toreth's intent, and it struck him that this could be an opportunity for the Romulan. "I will be soliciting the assistance of Toreth, who was formerly in command of a vessel in the Romulan fleet. She may be willing to speak on our behalf to her former fellow commanders."

Nechayev raised an eyebrow. "You're sure that's a good idea?"

"She's expressed an interest in becoming a Starfleet captain."

"Oh!" It was a first, seeing the admiral gape in surprise.

"It sounds shocking, I don't doubt, as you've not had much conversation with her. But she's at Lwaxana's house at the moment, waiting for my return in fact. We were discussing the incident. She knew the officer in command of the vessel involved."

"I see," Nechayev replied, recovering. "Again, your discretion. You and Commander Troi have succeeded where others have failed, after all, when it comes to the Romulans. Mrs. Troi is on her way home, and you'll receive updates over the following days -- your actual departure will depend upon several factors. So I will be in touch with you again soon, as I see you are still collecting information."

"Thank you, Admiral."

After the termination of the channel, he thought about the situation again, then stood and returned to the bridge. Ward rose from the center chair, and after considering it Jean-Luc gestured for the door of the observation lounge across the bridge. Ward followed him in, and joined him in standing in front of the viewports along the forward wall rather than sitting down at the briefing room table.

"We'll be having a briefing before departure in a few days. We're collecting information and preparing for a visit to the Romulan Empire. We may be joined en route by scientists who will assist us in a detailed analysis of the Romulan sun, which is reportedly on its way to an artificially-induced supernova within two decades."

Ward rocked back on his heels, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He recovered with a shake of his head. "Why?"

That was an unexpected response. Ward Carlisle was not given to dissent or inquisitiveness. He usually followed orders and offered suggestions. "Billions of lives are threatened. Why would we not?"

"Well, sir... forgive me for repeating the obvious. But the Empire has never shown any sign of wanting a treaty, and only allied with us for the duration of the Dominion War because it was obvious that the Dominion would destroy them. Why would Starfleet _want_ to help them?"

This was perhaps an understandable perspective and no doubt it would be a common one. Jean-Luc had somehow managed not to expect it from his own senior staff, however. He attempted a smile at his second officer. "Why would we not want to see the Romulan Empire fall, opening a large gap along the Beta Quadrant borders? It may also be an open door to a treaty, after all the years of standoffs and mistrust. We must choose our battles, Mr. Carlisle. The Federation Council just met on this matter and decided to investigate, and they will likely meet again to decide what we should do after the conclusion of the investigation. In the meantime -- it's your job to prepare us for deployment, and that now includes having the quartermaster prepare quarters for guests. I intend to take one or more of the expatriate Romulans with us when we leave, and we should be hosting specialists to assist us as well. And, until the official briefing -- please keep this to yourself. For now."

"Yes, sir," Ward said.

They left the briefing room, Ward returning to the conn as Jean-Luc headed for the turbolift. He decided to speak again to Narviat and include M'Ret, as it seemed likely that he would be speaking directly to Romulan ship commanders and possibly agents of the Empire he had yet to meet. It would likely help to understand more about the way their bureaucracy worked, and they might be willing to help him with that given the nature of the mission.


	18. Chapter 18

Deanna came out of the bedroom with her hair brushed back and clipped, her dress exchanged for black tights and a bright tunic in metallic blue, and the full knowledge that there were now more Romulans in the house than before she'd gone in to take a nap. In the three hours that had passed, Jean-Luc must have mustered the troops. She recognized Narviat, Toreth, M'Ret and Tyreen. Alexander wasn't present, nor was Barin or Murphy; that likely meant Jean-Luc had suggested a trip to one of Barin's friends' homes, the better to discuss classified material without interruption. There was only one of Mother's employees present, the cook Nida, and she seemed to be down at the far end of the house in the kitchen. 

It took a few minutes of wandering to find the five of them in one of the dining rooms -- the smaller of the two, without the stuffy, formal decor and ridiculous uncomfortable chairs with which Mother had decorated the larger dining room. This room had her map of the Alpha Quadrant on the wall, with all the worlds she had visited marked with a small gleaming white light. Nida had brought in beverages and some appetizers already, from the scattering of glasses and plates on the black wooden table. The Romulans sat around the end of the table nearest to the door; Jean-Luc's head turned, and they all followed suit, as she came into the room and swung the door closed behind her. 

" _Tetya_ ," Narviat greeted her fondly. "Come sit." He gestured to his right. He sat at the head of the table with his back to the door, and there was an empty chair between him and Jean-Luc.

"Are we discussing the situation in the Empire?" She sat across from Toreth, smiled and nodded to M'Ret and Tyreen. 

"Your husband wanted to know about some of the people he is likely to confront, when you are in Romulan space," Toreth said. 

"Are you getting the answers you were seeking?" Deanna smiled at Jean-Luc, as he pulled the platter of finger food closer to her. Nudging her to eat more -- she'd had difficulty eating lunch. She humored him by taking a bit of vegetable and popping it in her mouth. Nida did season the _tero_ the way she liked it.

"I think so." Jean-Luc was eyeing her warily; her mood was causing him some uncertainty. 

"Have you thought about contingencies?" He didn't have his senior staff with him to ask such questions. No doubt he had been discussion other things with their friends.

He was bemused, as were the others. "Contingencies for which aspect of the mission?"

"If we go and determine that the star is in the process of going nova, and the Federation Council does not vote to actually help them," she said. After letting the wave of dismay abate, she continued. "Or, if we cannot actually investigate because the entire Romulan fleet blockades us."

From the set of his mouth, Jean-Luc had already thought of those possibilities. "You have a way of making an entrance."

"Have you considered contingencies?" she repeated, smiling serenely at him.

"It sounds like you have. Perhaps I should ask how you propose to handle such issues. It might save time."

M'Ret started to laugh. "Practical," he commented.

"I'm curious about your answers as well," Toreth said. "What _will_ you do if the Romulan fleet prevents you?"

"Whatever Captain Picard decides we should do. But there are options -- we could talk to them. We could bring a fleet of our own. We could build a cloaking device and use it." Deanna could list numerous options, not all of which would agree with Jean-Luc's ethics. "We could borrow one from the Klingons."

The smiles faded, at that. After the war, Starfleet had returned to pre-war status, as had the Romulan Empire -- the agreement previously made banning Starfleet vessels from using a cloak remained in force. Deanna waited for a response, thinking about the phase-cloak that had been developed some years before, and the time Jean-Luc had borrowed a Klingon vessel to go to Romulus.

"I believe we should openly approach them first," Jean-Luc said. 

"Contact them on Romulan channels and offer assistance?" Deanna picked up another vegetable from the platter, glancing at M'Ret. "I'm curious -- if the Empire has been aware of the problem with their sun for several years, what are they doing about it?"

Toreth frowned, turning to look down the table at the others as if asking for consensus on what to say. M'Ret sat back in his chair and lost his jovial, relaxed manner, but said nothing. Tyreen didn't flinch away from the question, however. Raising her head, she said, "Very little."

"I am not certain what they are actually doing, since I've been on Betazed for years. I would expect they are tasking scientists with working on a way to reverse the issue," M'Ret said. "And they are not above kidnapping someone from another world to assist if their own scientists cannot manage."

"Heliophysicists are not the most common of scientists, but they do exist," Jean-Luc said. "Are there none within the Empire?"

"The Senate tends to push the sciences to develop weapons and defensive technology," M'Ret said.

"And interrogation tools and techniques," Tyreen intoned, clearly disapproving. "From what I have seen on Betazed, other sciences such as medicine and agriculture have been sorely neglected on Romulus. It's disappointing."

Deanna thought about what she had seen and heard, while on her undercover missions to Romulus. Nothing suggested the population knew anything about the pending supernova. "They aren't telling anyone on Romulus but I assume the Senate and those that know have an evacuation plan."

"I would assume the same," Toreth said, disapproval in her eyes.

"Perhaps we should tell everyone on Romulus," Deanna went on.

It made a definite impact. All eyebrows rose, and Narviat chuckled. Jean-Luc exhaled loudly. "How would we do that?"

"We broadcast an override on the Imperial News channel. Let everyone know about the timeline, and that the Federation is willing to help them resolve the problem by bringing in heliophysicists to assess and determine what to do to reverse the damage."

Tyreen laughed out loud at it. "That would cause a definite reaction in the population! Which is precisely why the Senate keeps this a secret. Control must be maintained."

"What's left of the Tal Shiar must be working overtime to contain this," Toreth said. She was not so amused as the others.

Jean-Luc's mood shifted as they spoke, and Deanna turned to watch his face as he sat with his hand to his chin as his thought process continued. Her focus on him got the attention of the others and then everyone in the room waited quietly until Jean-Luc spoke.

"Or," he said quietly, "we use the channel to announce something less likely to induce complete chaos, but distracting enough that it keeps everyone occupied, reducing the response time -- if we combine some of these ideas, we could increase our chances of success. We could approach the star on a course that keeps us away from Romulus. We could begin the survey, and if we're detected we can have contingencies -- ranging from a cloak to simply speaking to the commander who arrives to address the incursion." He gestured at Toreth, seated across from him. "She's agreed to come with us. To speak on our behalf, to any who will listen.

"All else failing, we'll just send Mother in to talk to the Praetor," Deanna said, liking his turn of mood.

A bark of laughter from him was her reward. "If she can convince the Federation Council, why not?"

The Romulans were looking at each other, bemused. "Lwaxana spoke to the Federation Council?" M'Ret asked.

"She's Betazed's representative on the Council," Deanna said with a wincing smile. "Because even though she wanted to retire she couldn't stand the thought of the husband of her nemesis being our representative."

That distracted Jean-Luc from the topic at hand. "Do you mean Yora?"

"Yes. Yona is Yora's husband. It's entirely too cute, so I suspect he changed his name to suit her." Deanna didn't like the man; Yona was one of the least honest Betazoids she'd ever met.

"You are showing me that there are Betazoids who are arrogant and dishonest. I'm not sure I can survive this revelation," he exclaimed, with a twist at the corner of his mouth and laughter in his eyes.

M'Ret guffawed. "That would be a constant in the universe, I believe. Those individuals can be epidemic in some populations."

Deanna swallowed another snack, and looked at the PADD on the table in front of her husband. A list of Romulan commanders and their vessels was on the display. She glanced at Narviat, and found him meeting her eyes. Watching her. He was in a more serious mood than the others, less distracted by the conversation, thinking hard. "What do you think of this plan, to investigate and possibly help the Empire with the supernova? Now that you've had some time to think about and discuss it."

They must have been discussing the details, looking at particular aspects that might be present obstacles to the investigation of the star. But she wondered why Narviat was pensive and starting to feel sad. The old Romulan looked different than the man she'd met on Romulus; he'd let his hair grow out a little, and lost weight. The cardiac surgery he'd had following his exodus from the Empire had allowed him to be more active than before; he and Tarel had mentioned their new habit of walking and taking trips to see other parts of Betazed. But it was clear that the stress of knowing his homeworld was ending if nothing was done had had an impact. There were more gray hairs in his sideburns than he'd had the last time she'd seen him.

"I am remembering what Proconsul Kalad told me, the last time I saw him," Narviat said. "Four weeks before you and Erket arrived on our doorstep, and upended our lives. We were discussing a recent decision the Senate made, to direct the fleet to build more troop ships. He thought that might be a start of an attempt to evacuate people, that calling them troop ships was a way of keeping the Empire's pending doom from becoming public knowledge and causing a panic. But he feared that it was merely a move to build toward an invasion of a world on our other border, an attempt at expansion. Many of the worlds within the Empire have been mined or otherwise uninhabitable, and the colonies we have founded are heading that direction. There are no worlds that could replace Romulus. Kalad said that he hoped that the Senate and the Praetor would find a reason, however self-serving it would have to be, to push for a solution to the problem other than to leave and let billions of our people die. I fear that the current government will take any attempt that the Federation makes and present it to Romulus as an invasion, or a manipulation. It's been a consistent message they have presented, again and again."

"If there is a way to get a message to Spock, he may be able to help," M'Ret said. "The underground movement has been present for years. I suspect that would spread the message through the populace effectively, without the government's interference. And I think any message sent should be carefully considered."

"We would want to speak to Spock regardless, I think," Deanna said, turning back to Jean-Luc. "You would want to give him the opportunity to evacuate himself."

"I believe we should go with them," Tyreen said quietly. M'Ret turned to his wife and for a few seconds they looked into each other's eyes. Deanna wondered if that was how she and Jean-Luc appeared, when communing silently; both of them were obviously thinking intently, perhaps together. 

The door opened and all heads turned. Nida came in, smiling, composed and professional. "Would you like me to serve dinner?" She glanced from Jean-Luc to Deanna and back.

"Yes," Deanna said, knowing that most present were hungry to some degree. "Please."

"I will return momentarily." Nida bowed her head and hurried out of the room. 

"I will talk to Tarel about going," Narviat said. "I can't stay here while you are risking your lives on our behalf."

"Will you be staying here on Betazed, Deanna?" Toreth asked.

That stunned Jean-Luc -- whether that was due to surprise at the suggestion, or hearing it come from Toreth, Deanna wasn't certain. Deanna responded, "No, I go with my ship. This is no less dangerous than any other mission we've been on."

"Were you pregnant on any other mission?" Tyreen asked. 

It was, she told herself, typical -- they were Romulans, not humans, and they could be as blunt and forthright as Betazoids. Or Vulcans, for that matter. She sensed Jean-Luc's concern, but put on the calm demeanor she had practiced for so many years and said, "No. But I'm not going to sit in this house with Mother any more than I must. And I'm not letting him go without me, he gets into trouble too easily," she added, turning to give Jean-Luc a mercenary smile.

"I wasn't aware that marrying a Betazoid would result in a demotion and a new dictionary," Jean-Luc commented in a sanguine tone as he picked up his glass. "Missions are now mischief?"

"Sometimes you find additional mischief to go with a mission." She giggled at him and leaned back in her chair, hands over her abdomen. "You have always appreciated a challenge. It doesn't take a Betazoid to know that."

Nida returned, bringing in a cart laden with food, and served them all dinner. Deanna turned the conversation to trivial matters -- by comparison, at least. Asking Tyreen how she was faring on Betazed since she arrived kept their guests occupied, while Jean-Luc started to brood. She guessed they would talk about it after the Romulans left the house.


	19. Chapter 19

Jean-Luc sat up reading, since he couldn't sleep, and eventually Deanna stirred and woke. "What time is it?" she muttered sleepily.

He set aside the PADD and watched her sit up, elbowing a pillow up behind herself. "Too early, or late, depending on how you view it -- I'm tired but can't sleep. But there's no need for you to stay awake with me. I was just reading one of the books M'Ret gave me." The former proconsul had brought with him from Romulus a number of Romulan works, some about the history of their people, and when not working to help with Betazed's recovery from the Dominion invasion, he continued to translate them into Standard. 

"Mother should be home soon. You should rest, who knows what she'll be like when she gets here. Probably overexcited and wanting to gossip about her time with the Federation Council." 

He smiled at her -- she was rubbing her eye, her hair coming out of the braid, peering at him through heavy-lidded eyes; the PADD was the only illumination in the room and cast very faint light. He considered turning on the lamp at the side of the bed, but instead he turned off the PADD and settled into the covers, putting an arm over her. She rolled to touch his bare chest under the blankets and fell asleep again.

She woke up some time later, sitting up a little on one elbow. "Which one are you reading?" Her hoarseness told him how drowsy she still was. 

"It's an accounting of a Romulan warbird and its interactions with the Federation, written by a subcommander who apparently died in the Dominion War. Illuminating, to say the least."

"Mm." She burrowed closer until he felt her breath on his collar bone. "Mother's home."

The soft revelation startled him. "She is?"

"She woke me up telling me, telepathically. And she's ecstatic. Someone's with her."

"Someone... we know?" 

She hummed a little and seemed to be falling asleep again. Which he wanted her to do, but if "someone" was an admiral....

"Do you know who it is?"

"No. Probably -- " She yawned audibly, and paused. "Probably a new husband."

That was completely baffling. So Lwaxana had gone to a meeting of the Federation Council and somehow gotten married? Or perhaps Deanna might be having a dream? He contemplated following up with another question, but she snored gently. In the distance somewhere in the house he heard the muted thump of a closing door. Sliding out of bed, he turned on the lamp, then pulled on the pair of pants he'd left draped on the back of a chair. From the corner Murphy rose and ambled over to see what was going on. He ignored the cat, took a robe from the closet, slung it on as he left the bedroom, and headed down the hall, leaving the bedroom door open. Murphy followed, his paws making soft _pat-pat_ sounds on the tiled hall floor.

"The other wing is the guest rooms," Lwaxana was saying, her voice more subdued than usual, as he reached the foyer. Her back was turned to him; she wore one of her elegant sparkling gowns, this one a deep crimson, as she gestured over her shoulder toward the guest wing. The man standing in front of her was taller than she was, and he noticed Jean-Luc first. Smiling, he brought a hand up to smooth his thin mustache. An affectation, Jean-Luc thought. Lwaxana turned around, beaming at him. "My dear -- I didn't expect anyone to be awake at this hour!"

"I heard the door. How was it?" No doubt Lwaxana knew she'd awakened Deanna and then sensed her daughter fall asleep again.

"I wish I'd had more _time_ , it was such a rushed visit to Earth, but I had to get back as quickly as I could -- of course! You mean the meeting. I believe it went very well -- but you know I can't talk about it," she exclaimed with great pretense of disappointment, shaking her head and smiling wincingly, " _of course_ the content of meetings of the Federation Council are private! Above your clearance level, dear. But -- I want you to meet Kenyon Beck. He's a dear friend of mine. This is _Captain_ Jean-Luc Picard, my sweet daughter's husband."

Jean-Luc approached slowly, extending a hand. "Mr. Beck."

The man stepped forward, leaning around Lwaxana, reaching to shake the offered hand briefly while touching Lwaxana's arm -- it was the proprietary gesture combined with the casual encroachment on her personal space that suggested Deanna's presumption was correct. The two were definitely close. "Call me Ken," the man said in an accented baritone. His dark complexion and black hair suggested he might be of Latin descent.

"So how do you know Mrs. Troi?" Jean-Luc asked casually.

"Oh, dear Jean-Luc, so _sweet_ that you're so concerned," Lwaxana interjected, moving toward him and touching his arm. "We met at the _Le Parisien_ when I was at dinner with some of the other Council members. He plays the piano -- we'll have an opportunity tomorrow for him to play for us, you'll be _enchanted_ by his singing as well."

As she spoke, Murphy started to growl softly. Jean-Luc took another step back and put a hand on the cat's head. "No." Murphy yawned, showing off his fangs, and sat down with a _harumph._

"How long will Mr. Beck be staying with us?" Jean-Luc asked Lwaxana pleasantly.

She laughed in that carefree, giddy way she had. "As long as he wants, of course! How is Deanna?"

"Fine. Asleep at the moment."

Lwaxana raised her head and seemed to be tuning in to something telepathically. "Do we have other guests in the house?"

"We had some of our friends over for dinner and they stayed late, so we gave them rooms." Toreth, M'Ret and Tyreen were in bedrooms asleep, and Narviat had gone home to Tarel, with intent to prep her for the mission. Jean-Luc found their presence reassuring now, as he didn't like the look of this man. Beck watched them with a more calculating expression when Lwaxana's back was turned, and smiled benignly when their hostess looked his way. It was puzzling how Lwaxana wasn't picking up anything concerning; he knew she was not so oblivious.

"What kind of animal is it?" Beck asked, pointing at Murphy.

"That's my daughter's pet," Lwaxana said dismissively, waving a hand as if shooing the _nemoya_ away. "Pay him no mind."

Murphy grumbled and glared at the man. Jean-Luc agreed, there was something off about him. "Come on, Murphy. I'll see you in the morning, Lwaxana. Good night." He turned and went down the hall toward his room. The cat followed him slowly, still grumbling.

Once in the room with the door closed, he pointed at the corner where a large cushion had been laid for Murphy; the cat ambled over and threw himself down as if supremely frustrated.

"We'll see what tomorrow holds for us," Jean-Luc muttered. "You might yet get a piece of him."

Murphy blinked his great yellow eyes and said "MaAOW!" Swiping a paw over his head, he rolled on his side and closed his eyes.

Jean-Luc went to the bed. Deanna was curled up asleep, the edge of the blanket over her chin. He turned away and went to the table, picked up the comm badge he'd left there, and put it on his robe. "Picard to _Enterprise_."

" _Enterprise_ here, sir." It was Ensign Michaelides, the gamma watch officer.

"Ensign, give me direct voice access to the computer. I need to request some information." He went to the other side of the room and glanced out the window, which still stood open.

"Aye, sir." After a moment the computer's voice said, _Please state the nature of your request._

"I would like information on a human named Kenyon Beck...."


	20. Chapter 20

Deanna finished putting up her hair, arranged it around her face, and straightened the bright red tunic -- in the brightly-lit bathroom she looked presentable to her eye, anyway. She joined Jean-Luc in the bedroom as he was putting on his jacket. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

They found Toreth in the dining room again, studying Lwaxana's map of all the places she'd been. The table already had a pitcher and glasses on it, and as they sat together with their backs to the map, Nida returned with food for Toreth and took their requests for breakfast.

"Mrs. Troi returned last night, and she brought a new guest with her," Jean-Luc told Toreth, after Nida left the room.

Toreth smirked, surprising both of them. "She loves guests." Obviously Toreth had spent time with Lwaxana.

Deanna cringed inside even as she smiled. "She _loves_ guests. Yes."

The door opened, and the anticipated guest arrived next. The man was as Jean-Luc had described -- tall, brown-skinned, black-haired, and just what would appeal to her mother. Difficult to read. Deanna stared wide-eyed at him. She should be sensing the open emotions of a human, and this man was apparently feeling nothing at all. She sensed his presence, but as he smiled across the table at them, she could not detect any real emotion behind the smile.

"You must be Deanna," he exclaimed, pulling out a chair. "I've heard quite a lot about you. Kenyon Beck, at your service."

Deanna forced a smile, and calmed herself. Until she knew more, she didn't want to tip her hand. "My mother has so many friends all over the quadrant, I don't know that she's mentioned you before -- how is it that you know her?" Beside her, Jean-Luc tensed and waited for the situation to develop further. She knew he wanted her opinion, before confronting Mother.

"We met on Earth. She's wonderful," he replied airily. Being vague, of course. "I have always been skeptical of love at first sight, however, the minute I met her I knew I couldn't let her leave without me."

Deanna almost rolled her eyes. Regardless of whether she sensed anything or not, that was the most ridiculous thing she'd heard in a while -- he wasn't even convincing. "I see. I'm surprised you were able to just leave Earth that way -- most people have obligations or jobs that aren't so easy to leave behind."

Burk forced a smile. He was good at appearing relaxed, but finally she sensed something from him. A flicker of frustration. "My employees are running the transports in my absence. We have a contract to help deliver supplies in the recovery effort."

That agreed with the background check Jean-Luc had run. But there were plenty of concerns, and she decided that she didn't need to dig very deeply to address them.

_Mother._

After a moment, her mother responded. As she made contact Deanna could tell she wasn't happy. _Little One. Have you met him?_

 _We're in the dining room with him. Mother, do you honestly love this man? When did you meet him?_ She knew it had to be when she was on Earth, in the past few days, but direct confrontation rarely went well with Lwaxana. Mother knew how Deanna felt about her habit of meeting, falling for, and investing far too much in these men she had just met.

Dismay came clearly to her, but the gentle confrontation had been too much confront, not enough gentle. Or possibly Mother had come to her own conclusion already and was embarrassed.

_Are you coming to breakfast?_

Mother didn't answer. Deanna had the impression she was getting ready and her anxiety was on the rise. That meant full flutter mode, when she finally got to breakfast.

"Your mother tells me you are the first officer of the flagship of the Federation," Burk said as Deanna attempted to converse with her mother. He continued to smile in that lazy, self-assured way that human men often had when confident in their own ability to charm.

"She is indeed," Jean-Luc put in, feeling defensive to the point that he needed to remind Kenyon he was present.

Deanna turned a fond smile on her husband, who certainly knew better than to think she was at all interested in this con man. "Among other things," she said, leaning closer, their shoulders brushing together.

Toreth muttered something in Romulan that Deanna didn't quite catch and kept eating. Jean-Luc chuckled.

The door flew open and Mother made her entrance. Resplendent in a glittering teal dress with a low neckline, she smiled benevolently at the four of them. "Good morning my dears," she sang out joyously.

"Good morning," Kenyon exclaimed, rising and holding out his arms, suddenly all smiles and joy. He caught Lwaxana's hands and kissed her cheek.

"Toreth, how nice to see you!" Lwaxana gestured with open hands in the direction of her Romulan guest. Toreth put down her utensil to return the gesture.

"Good morning," Jean-Luc said. He had his diplomatic smile in place, watched Mother sit down with the man she'd brought back with her.

"Nida should be here any time," Deanna said. "Is Barin awake?"

Kenyon's right eyebrow twitched. "Barin?"

"Mother's little boy -- I'm surprised she hasn't introduced you to him," Deanna said with innocent sweetness, putting on a face that she hadn't worn since her teen years, when Mother brought her out to show her to guests at one of her parties.

Kenyon raised both eyebrows at that. Then another forced smile, and he stroked his thin mustache with the back of his thumb. That would be his 'tell.' No need to play poker with him to find that out. There was a little more anxiety than before, despite his continued blankness otherwise.

Mother's mouth set itself in a line as she stared at Deanna. _My dear. Are you...._

_Mother. Have you not been able to touch his mind at all?_

_It isn't unusual you know. It isn't always possible._

_Do you want him to stay with you? Do you honestly trust a man you happened across, after you took a position on the Federation Council?_

Nida came in; Lwaxana turned to smile at her employee. "Nida, I would like my usual breakfast -- and some hot tea, you know what I like."

"Yes," Nida said with a fond smile. "I'll be right back. Your son is in the kitchen eating breakfast, ma'am. So is Alexander."

"Thank you, dear." Lwaxana turned to beam at Kenyon as Nida left again. "So -- what will we do today? Should we go sightseeing? I could show you the Fifth House."

Deanna watched Kenyon's face -- the man was energized by Mother's presence, or at least he appeared to be. Rather than address it, Deanna turned to Jean-Luc. "Did you speak to the admiral?" She knew he had, but he needed the prompt to bring up to Mother the reality of her change in status.

"I did. The security detail will be here this morning." He ate another bite and noticed Lwaxana's startled stare. Before she asked, he explained. "You're a member of the Federation Council. That comes with an increase in security -- we can't have random people attempting to reach you."

"I _told_ Alynna that I _do not need_ protection on Betazed," Lwaxana shrilled, waving her hands.

"You do, because if you are the only member of the Federation Council with no protection, it will _bring_ mischief to Betazed," Deanna said firmly.

Burk watched this exchange placidly, though Deanna sensed a flutter of worry from him. His conciliatory smile at Lwaxana was a work of art. "She has a point, my sweet."

"There have been those species that Betazoids cannot read," Jean-Luc pointed out as he lifted his coffee to his lips. "It's worth having a security detail to see to the matter of background checks and sweeping the grounds. To move ahead of you and sweep facilities before you visit. A good team can be unobtrusive and perform seamlessly in the background, without interrupting your schedule."

Deanna braced herself for another volley of protests -- but Mother closed her mouth again, looked down at the table between them.

"They are correct," Toreth said unexpectedly. "This facility lacks proper precautions, given your status. If you were on Romulus, you'd have at least two dozen centurions housed here providing round-the-clock security."

Kenyon seemed to notice Toreth for the first time; he spent several seconds more staring at her, before shaking it off and turning back to Lwaxana. "I'm a bit concerned that you don't have anything, myself," he lied.

Nida interrupted by bringing Lwaxana's food to her, placing it on the table, bowing slightly, and retreating from the room. As she left Murphy pushed into the room, wandered around the table and put his chin on Deanna's knee. He waved his long tail in the air behind him and grumbled in the back of his throat, gazing up at her adoringly.

"Yes, I know, you want to play," she said, rubbing the cat's brows and fondling an ear. "We'll go for a walk later, hmm?"

"Do all Betazoids keep such creatures as pets?" Kenyon asked.

"Not all of them. My grandfather gave him to me," Deanna said, picking a bit of food from her plate and offering it to Murphy. He opened his mouth wide, showing off his fangs. She dropped the chunk of vegetable on his black tongue.

"Oh," Lwaxana blurted, shoving away her plate. "All this talk of _security_ made me lose my appetite. I simply _hate_ the thought of being surrounded by guards all the time! I might as well be in _prison_!"

Deanna could tell that once again, Jean-Luc held his tongue; he had resolved not to engage with her mother if at all possible, recognizing that it was a futile endeavor. She reached over to put a hand on his knee beneath the table, expressing appreciation for his effort. "Mother. I'm worried about you. Surely you knew accepting the position on the Council would lead to changes? You're not a diplomat any more, of course they have different expectations."

"I shouldn't have done this," Lwaxana said, shaking her head mournfully. Kenyon touched her arm; she ignored him.

"I'm sure you can adjust, Mother, it's not as though you haven't been in our own government for years. How was the meeting on Earth? Did you feel that it went well for you?"

All three of the others were interested in the answer, judging from what she sensed, but Deanna suspected for different reasons -- the matter was of importance to Toreth and Jean-Luc, but Kenyon was very curious in a different way. Whatever he was doing to not project emotion wasn't working so well when his interest was piqued. Her mother, fortunately, wasn't so interested in talking about the details.

"The meeting was _fine,_ dear. It's -- oh, it's just not going to be the way it was," Lwaxana said forlornly, shaking her head. She flung up her hands in distress. "I _wish_ that stupid war had never happened!"

"I think that all of us can agree with that," Jean-Luc said quietly.

"I'm wondering if everyone in the meeting might have been in moods that were difficult for you to bear, Mother," Deanna said. She ate another bite of her breakfast, though she too had lost her appetite, thanks to all the anxiety in the room on top of Mother's mood. That the general emotional atmosphere in the Council Chamber had been stressful would be a given, she thought; she wondered if Lwaxana had been susceptible to Kenyon's charms precisely because of the general pessimism and anxiety that would surely be an issue for Council members handling the most serious issues confronting the Federation at present. 

Mother was still shaking her head and starting to cry a little again. "Oh, Little One...."

Deanna stood up, edged past Murphy where he lay on the floor against the wall, and came around the table to stand in front of the door. "Come with me, Mother, let's go for a short walk. It will help."

Mother left the table and went with her, putting an arm across Deanna's shoulders. "You don't understand, Deanna," she murmured.

"But I do. If you had asked me before you took the position I could have warned you, Mother. It can be overwhelming when things are very tense."

They strolled down the hall slowly, arms around each other. Lwaxana's sadness was difficult for Deanna to tolerate, but it was easier now than it had been in years past. "I will tell Kenyon to leave," Lwaxana said sadly. "I shouldn't have brought him home. But I was _so upset_ after the meeting, and he was so distracting! All I wanted was someone to be with for a little while. I shouldn't have let myself get caught up in him."

This was new -- Mother wasn't usually so quick to capitulate. "Are you afraid of him?" There was something about her emotions that suggested it; not precisely fear, but something. Mother was good at shielding her thoughts and feelings, however.

Mother's hand closed on her forearm. "When I got home and Jean-Luc came out to meet us, he was so suspicious. I know that we have not always seen eye to eye but Jean-Luc has always been so reliable. I didn't want to think that Kenyon means me any harm but I started to worry and this morning you are clearly not trusting him, you're different -- not so friendly as you usually are. I asked, this morning, because it started to make me worry that I can't read him at all -- Kenyon said that he had brain damage due to an accident and that was why telepaths can't scan his thoughts."

"You don't believe that, though. And I don't either. Mother, if you want us to remove him from the house, we can do that. You don't have to see him again."

"Would you?" The fear Deanna hadn't been able to sense came to the fore.

"I can tell him."

They reached the foyer and stood there for a few seconds, regrouping. Deanna looked up at the portrait of her grandparents on the wall -- her mother's parents had smiled down from that wall since her mother moved into the house. Her grandfather's warm eyes reminded her of days long past, when her life wasn't complicated and her mother was truly happy.

"I wonder what Father would think of me," Lwaxana said sadly, hanging onto Deanna's arm.

"I think he would be proud -- we're doing the best we can, Mother. And it's been quite a bit more than anyone ever expected us to do."

They looked at each other, and Mother's smile finally returned. She bent her head to kiss Deanna's cheek. "You're right. Dear, please ask Jean-Luc to escort Kenyon from the premises."

"I'll take care of it, Mother." Deanna turned a smile on M'Ret and Tyreen, who were approaching them from the guest wing. "Good morning. Why don't you take them to the arboretum, Mother? I'll have Nida come in shortly."

"Good morning," Mother exclaimed. One wouldn't guess she'd just been crying, except for the tears drying on her cheeks.

Tyreen looked back and forth between them, a little confused, but went along with the suggestion. M'Ret shot a look at Deanna that said he knew something was up but said nothing, simply followed his wife and his hostess down the hall toward the door to the arboretum, asking Lwaxana how her trip to Earth went.

Deanna hurried back to the dining room. Standing outside the door, she collected and settled herself, slowing down her breathing. When she re-entered the dining room, she had a smile on her face. Murphy still lay on the floor, and Jean-Luc and Toreth looked up at her. Kenyon was eating.

"Mother sends her apologies. She went to her rooms to touch up her makeup," Deanna said, heading around the table to her chair. But she stood behind it instead of sitting down. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave, Mr. Burk."

He looked up from his plate, put down the fork, and seemed genuinely surprised for a few seconds. "Well. I'd like to speak to Lwaxana."

"Mother asked me to let you know that she's sorry, but she won't be seeing you again."

Startled, Kenyon scowled at her. "I'm not going until -- "

"Murphy," Deanna said angrily. The _nemoya_ picked up her ire at once and in a fluid movement sprang up on the table, where his bulk became obvious. The table groaned under his weight.

Kenyon leaned back in the chair. Murphy took a step, planting a paw in his plate, opened his mouth and _roared_ in Burk's face. The _nemoya_ were very much like Terran lions, in some respects.

Burk fell sideways to the floor out of the chair and scrambled to his feet then stumbled from the room.Murphy loped after him, and Deanna gave chase down the hall to the foyer. Fortunately, Murphy stopped in the foyer when she told him to. She stood in the open front door and watched Burk run across the acres of pavement in front of the house. She reached in her pocket, put her commbadge on the shoulder of her tunic, and tapped it.

"Troi to _Enterprise._ Beam a security team to the pre-established coordinates."

Jean-Luc had arranged for this contingency, so within minutes deLio and three other officers materialized in front of the door outside. She pointed at the retreating man about to start down the driveway from the pavement. deLio gave her a nod, gestured at the others, and they jogged after Burk.

Deanna stepped back and closed the door. As she turned, she found Nida standing there with wide eyes.

"Mr. Burk is no longer welcome here and won't be back. Mother and two of our guests are in the arboretum. The rest of us will be moving in to join them."

"Yes, ma'am." Nida hurried down the hall toward the arboretum.

Deanna flicked her fingers, gesturing for Murphy to go with her, and the cat bounced off obediently. She returned to the dining room, where Jean-Luc and Toreth sat waiting for her. The table was a mess now. Murphy had knocked plates around and off the edges.

"I'm sorry about the mess. Burk is being put in the brig on the _Enterprise_ for now. Let's go to the arboretum -- Mother, Tyreen and M'Ret are there. If you want more food Nida can bring some."

Jean-Luc smiled proudly as he stood up. "Your pet was quite useful."

"He can be, yes."

"That man did not have good intentions," Toreth said. "I am surprised that your mother brought him back with her. She isn't naive, and she's telepathic."

"There are some who are able to resist telepathy," Deanna said. "Mother also tends to be very impulsive. My apology for the extreme measures. But Jean-Luc ran a background check on him, and Mother settled down enough to recognize he couldn't be trusted. I had security meet him outside."

"I see. You said they are in the arboretum?"

After Toreth went out, Jean-Luc lost his smile and stood looking at Deanna expectantly.

"I didn't tell Mother everything you found out. I didn't think she needed that while we have guests in the house. He has an implant, Jean."

Her captain closed his eyes and exhaled. "They have to be targeting us. Why target your mother? I wish the Section would leave us alone."

"Unless they are _assessing_ the latest addition to the Federation Council, in which case she does in fact need very good security. The more she has, the less of a risk to the Federation she becomes, the less likely that the Section sees her as a concern. I'm going to suggest again that Alexander consider it. She needs someone trustworthy. I wish she hadn't taken the position." Deanna hugged herself and grimaced in dismay. "I wonder if Toreth might help. She seems to like Mother, and she's definitely much more attuned to deception."

"A conversation for later, as you said. You should eat more."

She rolled her eyes. "I know. But I think I'm going to ask her for something else -- my appetite is gone again."


	21. Chapter 21

"I can't wait until he's born," Barin exclaimed, skipping a few steps.

"I'm afraid we'll all have to wait." Deanna put a hand on her brother's shoulder as she walked with him. Her other hand went to her navel; talking about the baby often led to that gesture.

It was a beautiful afternoon, and they were taking a break from the computer at Mother's insistence. She was right -- obsessing and starting the mission before they left wasn't helping. But because it was a mission, and he was still captain, Jean-Luc still ruminated about the upcoming mission while following Deanna around the hills behind the house. It turned out that Lwaxana owned quite a lot of property, and Barin had asked Deanna to show her some of her favorite places after she'd mentioned roaming far and wide as a child.

They crested the next hill and paused beneath the branches of a very tall, very bushy tree. Deanna looked up into the branches. "I used to have a tree house here. And a swing. It looks like it's all gone now."

"Maybe Mother will let me build one," Barin said. It was interesting how, now that he'd started to talk and associate with other children, the half-Betazoid, half-Tavnian son of Lwaxana had started to act more like a child himself. "Maybe you could help me!"

Deanna smiled at Jean-Luc as she responded. "Maybe Jean-Luc could. He's built tree houses before. My uncle built mine for me. I'd be happy to help, but I think you need someone with experience."

"It's a great view," Barin said, waving a hand -- the hill wasn't the tallest around but it did provide a decent view of the fields between the tree and the house, nestled in some trees. "But I think we need a ladder."

"Well, I'm certainly not going up there without some safe way to climb it. A fall would hurt," Jean-Luc said, leaning back to look up at the branches. "Alexander might be able to help you build it. I won't be able to, this time, but perhaps we'll come back to Betazed in a few months."

"He'll probably have a tree castle by then, not just a house," Deanna said with a grin.

"I wish this visit wasn't as busy as it was -- we could have spent more time together," Barin said. His gray skin looked a little pink. Jean-Luc tapped his head, reminding the boy, and Barin shrugged and put on his broad-brimmed hat again. Apparently Tavnian skin could be sensitive to sunburn.

Deanna went to the bole of the tree and leaned against the shaggy gray bark, looking up. Jean-Luc heard a distant slam of a door from the direction of the house and wondered if Lwaxana might be going into town for some reason. Hopefully she would not try to argue with the security officers assigned to her.

 _Jean, Mother is telling me that something is chirping in our room. Did you forget your_ _commbadge?_

 _I did._ He had intended to keep it with him at all times. He must have left it on the table after changing for their walk, after lunch. Things had settled down after the Romulans left the house. He'd put on a short-sleeved shirt to go out in the sun.

"I'm going back to the house -- you two can explore the rest, perhaps I'll be able to catch up with you later," Jean-Luc said out loud.

"Okay," Barin said cheerfully. "Deanna, did you ever have any _other_ treehouses?"

Jean-Luc left them there and marched down the hill, not waiting to hear her response. He reached the bottom of the hill and took the path -- which must be another extravagance Lwaxana had ordered for the benefit of guests, as he didn't see her as the hiking kind -- then started to run along it. A yowling and Murphy leaped from some small trees to join him. The cat loped along, feinting with a paw at his ankles but never making contact, and they reached the house after just a short time. He slowed to a walk as he approached the back patio. Murphy started head-butting his hand as he opened the door.

No one was evident in the arboretum, the foyer, or in the hall as he made his way to the far end of the guest wing. As he entered the bedroom, Murphy dashed to the bed and leaped up; Jean-Luc glared at him, and the cat jumped down again, grumbled in his throat, and padded over to his cushion in the corner. The two comm badges were sitting on the single table in the middle of the room. Jean-Luc picked up the one that emitted a soft chirp as he approached.

"Picard to _Enterprise."_

A short pause. Jean-Luc pivoted and sat in one of the chairs at the table. "Sir. Admiral Nechayev contacted us to update orders and requested that you contact her to update her. We are to depart tomorrow on our assignment -- to Vissia, by way of Starbase 349."

"Have you started to recall everyone on leave?"

"Yes, sir."

"Put me through to the Admiral now, route it to me here."

"Aye, sir."

Jean-Luc ran his hands over his head and took a deep breath. This would be the end of opportunities to spend time with his wife alone, at least for a while. The channel reopened with a soft beep and the Nechayev's voice filled the silence.

"Captain. Report."

"I've been discussing the situation more with M'Ret and the other Romulans here, and four of them have opted to join us -- Toreth will be joining us on the bridge, in the event we are confronted by a warbird. Mr. deLio said that we are to go to Vissia -- have we had heliophysicists volunteer to help us?"

"Yes. First, I was able to contact the Kaelon and review the matter with their government. Initially it was a no. Since becoming members of the Federation, they learned enough about the Romulans to understand the risk would be high. But they offered information, and then in the process of collecting it, one of their scientists requested permission to volunteer to join you. Dr. Dara will be meeting you at Starbase 349. The Vissians are sending a team, and a stratopod, if you will come to Vissia to take them aboard. I am also sending Dr. Taylor and Dr. Tavik, both heliophysicists of some renown within the Federation."

That was more than Jean-Luc had expected. "I hope that we are allowed to complete our investigation, after so much effort has been made. Have we made any contact with the Romulans themselves?" He half-expected at least an attempt, via diplomatic channels already in place.

"There was some discussion of whether to attempt a conversation with the individual they designated to be the representative to the Federation. It was felt that the situation would be better served by sending you to the Neutral Zone to initiate contact yourself."

After a pause, Jean-Luc asked, "Has there been any new intelligence that might help us in our efforts?"

"I have spoken to Admiral Tessora, in fact. She will also be joining you at Starbase 349. She'll be able to brief you on pertinent intelligence en route. You will have control in the matter of the investigation of the sun, but once there is confirmation of a pending supernova Tessora hopes to establish communication with and extract remaining Federation assets while the _Enterprise_ is in their system. Including Ambassador Spock."

"Understood," he replied, a little taken aback. It left him uncertain of what else to say.

Nechayev seemed to understand the implications without his questioning. "We want proof of the status of the sun, but we need to be prepared for all possibilities. If you find you are unable to address the problem of the sun, evacuating our people is but one of several steps. We don't know how the Romulan Senate or the Praetor will react to your presence, or our help."

"We were discussing the possibility of somehow contacting agents within the reunification movement, to spread information among the populace. Unfiltered information rather than propaganda from the Senate in the hands of the population could change the course of the Empire. M'Ret will compose the message. He can send it to people he trusts within the movement."

That was not an option the admiral had considered; she didn't immediately reply, and when she did, there was increased tension in her voice. "To what end?"

"The Senate hasn't informed the civilian population. Those who can leave the system should be given the choice. Those among the aristocracy who are on the fence about reunification might finally tip the balance, dismantle the Senate, and a new civilian government put in place. And a new government would perhaps be more open to a less antagonistic stance toward the Federation. Toreth informs us that many in the military would welcome a change in the status quo."

"It appears you have thought through many contingencies, Jean-Luc. Which suggests that we have the right ship on the mission. I'll expect to hear from you directly when you reach the Neutral Zone. Nechayev out."

Jean-Luc sat there thinking until Murphy crossed the room and plunked his head in his lap. The cat gazed up into his face until he started to pet him, then the yellow eyes closed and the purring started. It was somewhat relaxing, he had to admit.

Eventually, Deanna came in. She had a bouquet of red and yellow flowers in hand. "You seem to be getting along with Murphy much better now."

"We have similar tastes in Betazoids. Your walk is over already?"

"Yes, I brought Barin inside, after we found a good tree for his treehouse. He's researching building materials, preliminary to approaching Mother about procurement. Did the admiral have anything new to say?" She put the flowers on the table and sat in the chair opposite his.

"We're picking up scientists, and Admiral Tessora. We leave tomorrow. So I am about to ask you a question that has been asked already. Are you staying on Betazed?"

Deanna stared at him, with a wide-eyed confusion he hadn't seen in a long time.

He had considered simply asking her to stay with her mother. It was easy enough to see that for what it was, the glaring mistake it would be. The only avenue open to him was offering her the choice, take leave or not, because she would recognize the conflicted feelings he had about this. Her reaction told him that, too, was a mistake. She went stiff, her chin rigid, her nostrils flared, and her frown suggested he was about to be scolded. Then Murphy opened his eyes, raised his head, and turned to look at her. The movement distracted her, and then she was laughing.

"Oh, Murphy does like you," she said fondly.

"I suppose he might be growing on me. Not enough to take him with us," he added, not wanting a misunderstanding.

"I know why you asked me, Jean. And you know why I won't stay here." Her smile was gone, as she spoke. "You can't expect me to let you go without me."

"There will come a day when it will be a more difficult choice."

Her eyes chided him for stating the obvious, as her hand went to her abdomen. "As long as you make it a choice, we won't have to quarrel about it." She stood up again, smoothing the red tunic down. "Mother is informing me that Yora is here, asking to speak to us. It's not a scheduled visit and apparently she's upset again."

"Can we take Murphy with us?"

But Deanna pointed at the open window in the far corner, and Murphy glided across and leaped through it. "Come on, silly fish."


	22. Chapter 22

"I'm surprised she thinks she can summon us this way," Jean-Luc muttered as they approached the dining room. Mother had left their guests there, instead of staying to entertain them -- which really said everything about how far Mother had come, from times when a comment from Yora made her anxiously attentive.

Yora was standing in front of Mother's map, and all the lights were on showing every world Mother had been to, as well as every world Deanna had been to. She usually dressed as Mother did and today was no exception; the brocaded silver gown would be ridiculous, anywhere else in the quadrant. The man at her side wore what passed for formal clothing on Betazed, a bright yellow jacket over a pale yellow shirt, a pair of pants in a complimentary shade of brown. Yona -- she'd only ever seen him from a distance, at some of the events. Both of them had blond hair, likely dyed as it wasn't common on Betazed.

"The blue ones are mine," Deanna announced, crossing her arms. "What can we do for you?"

They turned as one, and Yora glared. She waved a padd she'd been holding. " _This_ is your fault!"

"You'll forgive me for having been busy enough that I have no idea what you're talking about," Deanna said calmly. She felt Jean-Luc's hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. He wasn't even concerned at this point.

Yora held out the padd and moved just far enough toward her to pass it to her. Deanna held it up and scanned the text on the screen. "Another movement to end the House system? How many of these have there been over the last thousand years?"

"That isn't the _point!_ Your little rebellion at the festival resulted in several members of the Second and Third Houses, and my own _niece_ as well, joining this farce! Don't you even care?"

"I care about Betazed. My family, my friends -- I care about the lives of our people. The House system is old, Yora. If you really want to perpetuate it, why can't you market and get volunteers, instead of badgering people to care? Restructure the damn thing and stop yelling at us for not meeting your ridiculous expectations!"

Deanna was certain that others must have had the idea of changing the House membership from bloodline to volunteer-based, but apparently none of them had ever spoken the idea aloud in Yora's presence. Her eyes went wide, her head jerked backward, and at her side, Yona gazed at his wife as if expecting her to explode. He didn't move away but seemed to lean a little as if ready to run.

"My mother joined the Diplomatic Corps to get _away_ from you," Deanna exclaimed, tossing the padd on the table. It clattered to a stop. "It was a good thing for her to do for other reasons. It gave her perspective, which is something you obviously lack. Maybe you should think about how much nicer life would be for you, if you dedicated the energy you expend on trying to force everyone to care about the Houses to the point of self sacrifice to making it easier to be a part of a House!"

Yona made an inarticulate, startled noise.

"I'm not sure what I expected," Yora said, her high alto fairly vibrating with anger. "But you can assume that I won't come to your wedding."

"Did I introduce you to Jean-Luc Picard, of the Fourth House of Betazed?" Deanna gestured over her right shoulder at him. "I wasn't going to invite you."

This time, Yona's snort definitely sounded amused. Yora stood there stiffly for another open-mouthed moment, then lunged over a chair to snatch the padd off the table. "I always knew you would be a troublemaker," she snapped. "If you cared about the Fifth House you would have listened to me long ago."

"I disagree. I care more about the people in the Houses, rather than being short-sighted in expecting them to live in the past to the point that it interferes with the future. And I care whether or not there are people at all, on Betazed. So go live in your bubble," Deanna said, without rancor. She waved a hand dismissively toward the door. "We'll see you at the Festival of the Moon, unless there's another invasion or quadrant-wide crisis. I sincerely hope that you're able to find a healthier way to gain support for the House system than coercion and blackmail."

Yora stopped in her tracks. Deanna sensed Jean-Luc's tensing at the sudden cessation of anger; Yora lost her momentum, and within minutes she settled into frustrated resignation. Deanna tilted her head, not willing to ask but curious.

"She may be right," Yona said, startling all of them.

Yora turned her head to scrutinize her husband. Another surprise, in an encounter full of them.

"The longer you fight this old battle, the more it becomes obvious that it's not successful. Insisting that the Houses have to be as they have always been is gutting them from the inside out, especially since the war," Yona said. "Maybe you should think about that."

Deanna sensed the ire, rising again then ebbing to a simmer. She thought Yora must have changed herself; the woman seemed harder, angrier, less able to put up a false front. Brittle. She remembered Yora being able to appear polite while being frustrated. Things had to have been difficult for her, and realizing that led to a shred of sympathy for the Daughter of the First House.

"We've all had to adapt, you know. We can't be the same people any more after all the loss and the changes in the Federation," Deanna said softly.

Jean-Luc's hand slid down her back. She could tell he started to feel a sense of urgency, so took a moment to look over her shoulder at him. His raised eyebrow and subdued smile weren't helpful. It was his default under stress. It took a few seconds for her to realize what he must be wanting, and respond.

_Something you want to say?_

_Do you feel an apology is warranted?_

Something in Deanna rebelled at the thought of apologizing to a woman who had been consistently demanding and rude each time she'd encountered her. But he was right. Diplomacy wasn't just for first contacts and making treaties. She looked at Yora again, to find the couple staring at them. Yora had her fingers over her mouth. She dropped her hand to clutch the padd in front of her tightly.

"You just spoke to him telepathically," Yona blurted, then regrouped and clamped his mouth shut.

"Why should that surprise you?" Jean-Luc asked, keeping his tone even and nonchalant.

Yona and Yora exchanged a shocked look. Yora's fingers on the edges of the padd might crack the casing if she didn't ease off, Deanna thought. "You don't know, perhaps, because you've spent so much time off world? Human-Betazoid hybrids aren't telepathic."

"I think you don't understand how unique Deanna is," Jean-Luc replied with a smirk. 

"I'm not a conformist, you may have noticed," Deanna said, leaning back against him. "I don't have a great deal of time left on Betazed. We're departing tomorrow on a mission. However, Mother has an interview scheduled this afternoon. I'm willing to sit in and talk about the House, to help push the media narrative in the other direction." She paused, watching Yora's reaction, and went on. "You have an idea of me that is outdated. I'm conceding that I have been guilty of the same. I'm sorry -- in retrospect, I think you were correct that I should have had a conversation with you prior to the festival."

Yora actually smiled at that. Of course, she'd gotten something she wanted. A sign of capitulation. Deanna regretted it for a second, then Yora took a step in her direction and said, in a conciliatory tone Deanna had never heard before, "And I am sorry that I made assumptions as well. Hopefully when you are here again, we will be able to talk without being distracted by festivals or other concerns."

"I'll look forward to it."

Yora half-turned toward Yona. "We should be going." She glanced at Deanna and Jean-Luc again. "We are on our way to Sarona, Yona has a speaking engagement."

"I'll show you out," Deanna said, gesturing at the door and starting to turn. Jean-Luc moved with her, out of the way then out the door with her. His hand returned to the small of her back as she walked with him down the long hallway, past her mother's grandparents, their parents, and at least six generations of Trois -- all looking down from old paintings long preserved and passed down from one Daughter of the Fifth House to the next. Yona and her husband followed behind them, their heels tapping on the tiles.

As the front door opened, the first thing Deanna saw was her mother, standing there on the pavement with her back turned. The less ostentatious dress she wore, a deep green with minimal sparkle, was just the sort of outfit she would choose for interviews. "Oh, _be careful!_ " Mother called out. Beyond her, Alexander and Barin were facing off -- Deanna was shocked to see her brother holding up a half-sized bat'leth, and their Klingon friend swinging a full-sized one slowly, slowly down to gently bounce off Barin's.

"Mother?" Deanna stepped up alongside Lwaxana.

Barin noticed her and dashed at them, holding out his weapon. "He says you're good at fighting! Show me!"

Deanna laughed, taking the bat'leth, and swung it as she approached Alexander. "I don't know if I should -- there's probably no chamomile in the house."

Alexander's belly laugh was startling; he sounded like a Klingon now. "There's a replicator, of course there is."

"What's chamomile?" Barin asked.

"A warrior's drink," Jean-Luc said.

Deanna turned around. Mother was confused to the point of speechless, and both Yora and Yona were standing slightly apart from her, staring at the Klingon in Lwaxana Troi's driveway.

An opportunity, to broaden the perspective.

The mini-bat'leth wasn't heavy, and she knew in a real battle it would be worthless, but this was all in fun. She whirled and swung it one-handed at Alexander, who parried quickly and spun on a heel, then brought his weapon around slowly enough that she knew he was playing just as he'd done with Barin. They blocked each other's blows and stabs, then Alexander backed off. He bent to pick up something off the pavement that she hadn't noticed before, and held out a full-sized version.

"Why didn't you say you had a real one?" Deanna held out the toy and Barin raced over to take it from her, going back to Jean-Luc to watch excitedly while Alexander brought her the bat'leth.

"I hoped you would come spar with us," he said. Raising his weapon, he bent a knee and growled the ritual challenge in Klingon.

Deanna ran at him and angled the bat'leth for a slicing blow to his shoulder, knowing from the sparring they had done on the _Enterprise_ on the way to Betazed that he was able to block and parry better than the human opponents she typically squared off with every week. He didn't disappoint. He was naturally strong and being in the Klingon military among warriors had helped him improve his skills, though he acknowledged he would never be a great warrior.

He laughed, as they sparred -- the real bat'leth was easier to use despite being heavier. She fought him back and forth for a few minutes and called a halt, in Klingon. She handed the bat'leth back to him, patting his arm. "I'll go replicate the chamomile," she said. Turning, she walked back to Mother and the others, smiling at Barin. "Your turn again."

"Maybe you can give us lessons," Barin said eagerly.

"Maybe later." She turned her smile on Yora, who still stood like a statue with her husband. The woman shook herself and nodded, then turned and continued toward the small vehicle waiting on the far end of the pavement. Yona smiled, shook his head, and followed his wife.

"Deanna," Mother said plaintively.

"I'm sure Alexander and Jean-Luc would be happy to sing you the Ballad of Deanna Troi. In the meantime, I really could use some chamomile tea."


	23. Chapter 23

"Thank you for being willing to sit in with us," Deanna said. She stood watching him, wearing her duty uniform. 

"I may only be a member of the Fourth House, but for some reason, I feel this strange obligation to you." He finished putting on his pips and turned to her with a resigned smile. "Does your mother have these press conferences often?"

"She does. One of the concessions she's made. Rather than be bothered randomly by the media, she arranges these meetings a few times a year and answers questions in a more controlled environment."

Jean-Luc headed for the bedroom door. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Mother can be practical, sometimes." Deanna walked with him down the hall. The meeting would be in the arboretum. 

They found Lwaxana at the round table at the heart of the arboretum, arranging fresh flowers in a bowl. She smiled merrily at them. "Hello, my dears. Mr. Sellers will be along any time -- do have a seat."

"Are there any specific topics they intend to ask about?" Jean-Luc asked, sitting with Deanna in the two chairs on Lwaxana's right hand. That left a single chair across from them for the reporter. 

"Oh, he'll want to know about my new position, of course," Lwaxana said, poking a red flower in among the red, white and yellow blooms in the bowl. "And your marriage -- it's not every day that a Daughter of the Fifth House gets married." 

Deanna glanced at Jean-Luc, her long-suffering expression tipping him off; she expected it to be not so simple as that. But she said nothing, merely crossed her legs and adopted a relaxed pose. 

"Here he comes," Lwaxana sang out with a smile. They heard a door in the distance, and Jean-Luc watched the man appear around the shrubbery that blocked their view of the curving path to the front of the house. The reporter was young, blond and blue-eyed, and grinning as he approached the table. Lwaxana remained seated, nodded regally, and the man stopped to bow slightly.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Troi. Thank you for meeting with me."

"Have a seat, Mr. Sellers. This is my daughter, Commander Deanna Troi. And her husband, Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

The man's reaction, a wide-eyed look, lasted only seconds; he recovered himself and pulled out the chair. Pulling a small padd from a jacket pocket, he tapped it with his thumbs and then laid it on the table. Recording, no doubt. "I understand you left the planet for several days, Mrs. Troi?"

"There was an emergency meeting of the Federation Council. I'm not going to tell you why," she said with an apologetic smile. "It's nothing that anyone needs to worry about."

Sellers turned to look at Deanna, then at Jean-Luc. "Captain, I wasn't aware that you had married -- congratulations."

"Thank you," he replied automatically. He had schooled himself to say as little as possible, so folded his hands in his lap and waited with a benign smile. 

"Would you care to comment on the reason you made her your first officer?"

He had the impulse to snap at the man, but suppressed it and raised an eyebrow, then chose his words carefully. "Well... it's common to choose a replacement first officer from the officers on hand, when one transfers. I've done that twice. Each time the successor was an officer in my own crew who was ready for a promotion."

Sellers blinked, his brow wrinkling. "She's your wife."

"Yes, I know. And before that, she was on my senior staff for more than a decade. As was my previous first officer."

"Starfleet doesn't have a problem with this?"

Deanna cleared her throat quietly. "Starfleet by policy does not interfere in the personal affairs of officers."

Sellers glanced at Lwaxana, as if checking to see how she was doing, and then at Deanna again. "Commander Troi. I have been given to understand that you hadn't been back to Betazed for any of the festivals for some years. Why now?"

"I know the state of our government on Betazed, and the slow progress in recovering from the war. I know Mother has been working very hard -- providing employment for people who lost their homes and businesses, during the invasion. Providing housing and resources, organizing our local efforts to rebuild. She suggested that the festivals resuming would be good for morale. Since I still feel that remaining in Starfleet is the best way for me to help my world and family at this time, I appealed to the captain to give me the opportunity to participate in some of them. He was able to come with me for Alipha." Deanna had the poise and delivery he'd come to expect from her. Jean-Luc appreciated that she had come up with the answers in advance, for this. He'd debated not participating at all but she had assured him she would handle most questions.

"You participated in the festival, at least on the first day, Captain," Sellers said, smiling at him. "I wonder if you're aware that you're the only non-Betazoid who has ever done so? Why would you?"

Jean-Luc shrugged a little. "Because I wanted to see what it would be like?"

"He has an interest in history," Deanna put in smoothly, shooting him an affectionate smile. "It's what Alipha is really about."

"As a non-telepath I can't say that I've ever fully understood what it's like to participate," Sellers commented. "So maybe you could tell me what it's like, to take on the memories of a Betazoid from centuries ago?"

Jean-Luc frowned, trying to see where this might be headed. He was certain the man had some sort of agenda - the most obvious being to obtain anything he could sensationalize. "That's hard for me to describe," he said finally. "Standard doesn't have sufficient terminology. It felt quite overwhelming, but it was enlightening."

"Commander Troi," Sellers said, facing her squarely. "Do you intend to continue in your position aboard the _Enterprise_?"

Deanna hesitated, giving him a bemused look. "Yes. Excuse me -- I was told this was scheduled for you to ask questions about the Fifth House, and not my career? Because if you intend to continue asking about my Starfleet career, allow me to save you time, and refer you to Starfleet Public Affairs, who will answer your questions."

Lwaxana continued to smile benignly, nodding her head. Sellers looked around at each of them and asked Lwaxana, "Do you have any comment on the recent reports of a group of House members organizing themselves in an effort to abolish the House system's influence on the government of Betazed?"

Lwaxana's benevolent smile and wave of her right hand were almost an answer in themselves. "There have been similar efforts here and there for centuries. I have no worries either way."

"I think that it's important to recognize our history for what it was, while we adapt to the challenges of the present," Deanna put in. "We don't have to make tradition a duty. There will always be those willing to maintain a record of the past, and there are also those who will work to move Betazed forward into the future. And there's no reason that any single person can't manage both. My mother has always been willing to work as a Federation representative while keeping up the Fifth House and being active in our local government."

Sellers stared at her while she spoke. Jean-Luc thought that there was something he would say, that he wasn't surprised by her assertion and was merely waiting his turn, and he didn't disappoint. "But you have not participated in House functions for years. Are you aware that there are several of your cousins participating in this movement to dissolve the House system?"

Deanna spent a moment gazing at him with an expression that suggested mild disbelief, or perhaps disdain. "So I am to assume that you think not participating in person somehow results in my ignorance, or irrelevance, or that my family believes it does? Are you asking me to approve or disapprove of what my cousins are doing? Or you might be thinking that I don't know about it, and I might be shocked into leaping to some conclusion about their affiliation with this group?"

Sellers chuckled and tucked his chin, suppressing a shrug which resulted in slight movement of the shoulders. She'd caught him out by not going on the defensive. "I'm merely interested in your reaction to the situation. If you support the dissolution of the Houses, particularly the Fifth House. Not having participated yourself might suggest to some that you see the old traditions as unnecessary."

Deanna smiled at him -- no doubt he would think it was a pleasant smile. Jean-Luc knew it to be her confident, has-this-guy-figured-out smile. "Do you think that I should be concerned about what other people believe about my opinions about the Fifth House?"

Sellers tensed at that. Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, he paused. "I'm curious to know your opinion," he said at last. "Do you believe the Houses should be dissolved?"

"I believe that my opinion is irrelevant," she said, turning to smile at her mother. "My mother is in charge of all things Fifth House. If she cedes those responsibilities to me, I will do my best to make wise and responsible decisions on its behalf."

"And if the House system is dissolved?"

"I would have to adapt, would I not? It's what a reasonable person would do," she replied. 

"Of course, dear," Lwaxana exclaimed. She leaned and put a hand on Deanna's arm, beaming at her affectionately. "My daughter understands my feelings on this matter very well, Mr. Sellers. Now, do you have any other questions?"

"Will you both be participating in the next festival -- the Festival of the Flowers?"

"It depends so much on what's happening in the Federation at large," Lwaxana exclaimed, waving expansively above her head. "You _know_ that the Federation Council handles so many matters pertaining to all Federation worlds. It would be in Betazed's best interests to hold those duties as a higher priority than a festival. But I do intend to be there, of course. And Deanna, well -- the flagship of the fleet certainly has a duty to respond when there is a crisis! I'm sure she will do her best to be here."

"Mrs. Troi, it's been reported that there have been sightings of a Klingon in the area -- are you aware of this? Rumors of an invasion -- "

Lwaxana laughed, interrupting him. "An invasion? Don't be _silly!_ Alexander is hardly an invasion!"

"Alexander is here with us," Deanna put in. "A friend of the family."

"Really? Do you have many Klingon friends?"

Jean-Luc eyed the man. "You do remember, I hope, that there is a treaty with the Klingons? And there are Klingon officers in Starfleet."

"Of course," Sellers said quickly. "But it seems a little odd -- Betazed is not where one would expect to see them."

"It seems a little odd that you would assume this, when there is a growing population of Bolians, Ullians, Vulcans, and many other Federation species." Deanna tilted her head slightly, her smile gone. "It also seems odd to me to be discussing this with a human who's living here in Medara."

Lwaxana leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. It showed off her cleavage, and her mischievous smile seemed to indicate she did it with intention. "You can access population statistics quite easily, Mr. Sellers. Why don't you simply get to the point? Ask what you are wanting to ask, instead of hinting."

Jean-Luc tried to adopt the inscrutable expression that Deanna was so good at, and looked not at the reporter but at Deanna and her mother. Sellers was obviously outmatched. It was difficult not to smile.

"You may have spoken to Jans Wym in the past," Sellers began.

Lwaxana sat back again, shaking her head. "Jans -- of course. What is that fraud up to now? Still trying to convince people to abandon the Federation before it's too late?"

Deanna pressed her lips together and turned to Jean-Luc. "Wym believes that the ongoing encroachment of aliens, as he puts it, will lead to the loss of our culture and eventually the loss of our telepathy."

"So, very similar to Terra Prime -- it seems many species have similar movements that crop up. Earth had several in the early years of warp travel, before the Federation was established. They don't gain much credibility in most cases," Jean-Luc said.

"Is it true that you yourself are half human?" Sellers asked, staring at Deanna.

Deanna's disdain was obvious in her mostly-suppressed sneer. "It's widely known that I am. It's also widely assumed that human-Betazoid hybrids are all empaths, but as most things tend to be, it's more complex than this assumption. The idea is that because I am a hybrid my abilities are limited. It's a false presumption. 'Different' is not the same as 'inferior.' It's simply not true that empathy is less useful or important. So your bias is false, Mr. Sellers."

Sellers frowned and protested, "Commander, I am a reporter -- I'm not biased. I'm merely -- "

"You are a liar, Mr. Sellers," Deanna said harshly. "Because as an empath, I am able to sense that you are not telling the truth. I also know that you have a close affiliation with Wym, based on your feelings as you speak of him. And I assure you that it takes no invasive technique for me to sense it -- you are, as all humans are, radiating your feelings freely. It takes absolutely no effort for me to sense them. So I suggest that you leave, now. I have absolutely no interest in indulging the hysterical imaginings of Jans Wym or anyone like him."

By the time she finished speaking, Lwaxana was on her feet and scowling at the reporter. "You may cancel all future interviews with the Fifth House," she announced coldly. "If your publication wishes to reschedule, they may do so only if they send a different reporter."

Jean-Luc didn't give the man an opportunity to disagree or protest. He tapped his badge. "Picard to MacKenna -- please come to the arboretum."

Commander MacKenna was the officer in charge of Lwaxana's assigned security detail, as a member of the Federation Council. He arrived minutes later, and came to attention behind the reporter's chair. Jean-Luc approved; whoever had chosen him for this assignment obviously knew Lwaxana, and assigned an older man with a history of no lapse of professionalism while on duty who would be less susceptible to her appeals to 'relax and have fun.'

"Mr. Sellers is done -- please escort him from the premises and ensure that your people are aware that he is not allowed to return," Jean-Luc said, flicking his fingers at Sellers.

"Come on," MacKenna exclaimed sternly. "Let's go."

Sellers stood up and went without a word. Jean-Luc watched the security officer follow the smaller man out, then glanced at Lwaxana.

"Thank you for insisting on security, dear," Lwaxana said.

He nodded, rising from his chair along with Deanna. "I regret that it's necessary, but you can see why it's needed now."

"Mother, please let Alexander stay," Deanna said softly. "Let him be Barin's security detail. I'm worried about him. And Barin enjoys his company so much, too. Let them keep Murphy with them. I don't like that Sellers was able to get so close to you."

Lwaxana nodded sadly. "I don't like to think that we need it here at home. But so much has changed...."

"I know, Mother. But things will change again for the better." Deanna went to embrace her mother, and they swayed together for a moment.

Jean-Luc thought about Earth, and wondered -- he'd heard rumors. Would there now be a surge of radical isolationists on other core Federation worlds? He almost didn't want to find out. The thought was extremely disheartening.


	24. Chapter 24

Deanna left the house, looking for her mother, and found her on the patio watching Murphy and Barin playing in the grass. "Mother?"

Lwaxana had her arms crossed across her torso, hugging herself, and seemed startled at the interruption from her thoughts. She put an arm around Deanna as she came to a stop at her side. "I suppose you were right," she said sadly.

"Right?"

"Oh... you told me, so many years ago, that frivolity and never taking anything seriously wasn't helping." She was so sad as she watched Barin play a game with the big cat. Deanna had taught him a nonsensical game she'd invented and played with Murphy long ago, that involved tagging a toy without being tagged. It was good exercise, dodging in and out while Murphy swiped with his paw.

Deanna winced at the reminder of a time she'd clashed with her mother. "Only if you don't balance your life. There's a place and a time for everything."

Lwaxana laughed at that. "Are you going to tell me your captain has time for frivolity? Oh, my dear... certainly the universe will end if he ever laughed!"

She smiled at that, thinking about all the times she'd heard him laugh for joy -- there had been occasions. "No. Otherwise we wouldn't be here. Mother... you have successfully navigated this far in life and taken on a great deal of responsibility without having difficulty balancing your joy of living. But I can tell it's been difficult for you, since the war. Please consider getting help?"

An old refrain. But unlike previous iterations, Mother seemed thoughtful. She smiled faintly as Murphy lost patience and pounced on Barin -- the two rolled over and over, the boy laughing without restraint. Deanna half expected a comparison to her own childhood, a comment about how serious she'd been, but Mother didn't repeat her old assumption.

"I suppose the animal can stay," Mother said at last. "Barin is so _happy_ playing with him. Children shouldn't be so caught up in tragedy."

Deanna turned from watching the pair to stare, wide-eyed, at her. It was a longtime belief Lwaxana had always had but the emotions behind it were troubling. Desperation, weariness, and more of the sadness Mother had been experiencing off and on. Deanna had respected Lwaxana's privacy, but decided it was time to be more Betazoid, as her mother had often said.

"I wonder if you're regretting things you've done in the past? Mother, you've always focused so much on the now -- what's started this chain of regrets?"

The anguished expression startled Deanna. She held her mother's arm, waiting for an answer. She heard the back door, glanced at the house, and saw that Jean-Luc was there, in uniform, waiting. It was time to go. They had a ship and crew waiting for them. But she didn't want to leave just yet. Mother moaned, looking down at the ground.

"I wanted to be a wife, and a mother. I listened to the wrong people -- oh, I _wish_ I was as strong and smart as you," she murmured.

Shocked, Deanna leaned in and took her mother's hand. "But you _are_ , Mother. I've always looked up to you for standing up for yourself. You've had a very successful career, you have more friends than anyone I know!"

"You don't understand what it was like! To sit here watching them come out of the sky!" Mother looked up as if there were something other than the faint crescent of one of the moons in the blue sky.

Deanna smiled then. This was familiar ground. Of course Mother would be traumatized. "The war traumatized everyone," she said softly. "You can feel better. You don't have to feel this way any more, Mother. Counselors can help you with this, just like I've always helped my crew -- there are ways to stop this. You told me that one of the projects you've supported was designed to provide trauma counseling for our citizens. I hoped you were taking advantage of that yourself."

"I'm not damaged," Mother insisted, frowning. "There are people who need the help more than I do!"

"It isn't a contest. You don't have to meet some sort of measurement before you get help, Mother. Please trust me that you can get the help and feel better, and you don't need to feel guilty that other people need the help too. Think about it -- there are probably a lot of people who think the same as you, suffering the same symptoms. Not getting help. You could be an example -- talk about your experience, once you're back to your normal self, and encourage them to do the same."

Barin was running over to them. It made Deanna wonder if he had more of the Betazoid genome than had been apparent; he was concerned, and ran up to Mother to throw his arms around her. Mother knelt down to catch him in a warm embrace. "What's wrong, Mother?"

"Nothing, dear," Lwaxana said with familiar false cheer.

Barin stood back from her and gazed up at her seriously. "You have been trying to convince me that you're not sad. I know you are. You don't sleep well, and you cry sometimes when you think I'm not paying attention."

It led to Mother covering her mouth with her hand, tears in her eyes. At least she didn't do as she had when Deanna was a child -- continue to deny and then distract her with something fun, or sweet. She met Deanna's gaze and the anguish ebbed as she gripped Deanna's fingers.

"Mother is going to get help," Deanna said, smiling down at her brother. He grinned happily, bouncing in place once and throwing his arms around Murphy's neck when the _nemoya_ came up behind him and bumped his head against Barin.

"Yes," Mother said at last.

"Do you really have to leave?" Barin wheedled.

Deanna dropped to a knee to hug him. They'd talked several times, while on walks, about his worries about Mother. She'd taken his concerns with a grain of salt because he was after all still a child, but it appeared he was more observant than Mother wanted to give him credit for. "I do. But I will send you messages, and you'll send me messages, and I will see you again soon."

"Yes," Jean-Luc said. He'd approached slowly -- not wanting to interrupt, but also feeling the pressure to leave orbit. Their Romulan friends were already aboard. He gave Mother a sidelong look and surprised all of them by taking a step, then another, then stiffly putting his arms around her. She reciprocated swiftly, like one of her prehensile vines -- perhaps thinking he would come to his senses and run, if she didn't act fast. They parted and he barely had time to react before Barin launched himself at him. That hug was received with less discomfort.

"Come back soon," Barin exclaimed as he backed up against Murphy. The cat purred and gazed up at them adoringly.

"I told Alexander good-bye already," Deanna said. "So I'm ready to go."

"Thank you for coming," Mother said, more tears starting to flow. "Good luck."

"We'll be back," Jean-Luc said. "Picard to _Enterprise_ \- Commander Troi and I are ready to beam up."

The smiling faces of her family dissolved, and they materialized in transporter room one. Mr. deOrda gazed implacably across at them and nodded once, his jowls wobbling. Jean-Luc moved for the door and Deanna followed without hesitation. 

In the lift, on the way to the bridge, she looked at him and found him looking at her. "You're going to tell me that your mother needs counseling."

"No, I'm going to tell you that she is finally getting it," Deanna said with a smile. It quickly faded, as she thought about her long history of trying to get Lwaxana to do that.

"Personality changes are often an indication of the presence of trauma," he said quietly.

"It explains a lot, doesn't it?" She bumped him with her elbow as the lift shifted direction ninety degrees. "Counselor Picard."

"Oh, just a lucky guess," he said drily. The dark amusement was understandable. He'd been repeatedly traumatized over the years. She knew very well how much work he'd done to get through it, and how his own personality had shifted ever so subtly as a result.

The lift stopped and she let him move ahead onto the bridge, as they went down to put the _Enterprise_ on course for the Neutral Zone.


End file.
